


Not an End of All, Only an End of Something

by blackwolf066



Series: The Ripples We Create;The Memories We Make [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Season/Series 01, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Klaus Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Ben Hargreeves is not the saint the siblings painted him out to be, Domestic Fluff, Eudora Patch Lives, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Good Sibling Ben Hargreeves, Good Sibling Klaus Hargreeves, Good Sibling Number Five | The Boy, Good Sibling Vanya Hargreeves, Humor, Klaus Hargreeves Deserves Better, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus Hargreeves is a little shit, Klaus Hargreeves is trying his best, Klaus gets clean, No Incest, No season 2 spoilers, Not Season/Series 02 Compliant, Now Klaus is the only one who can try and stop said end of all times, Number Five | The Boy Dies, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, Protective Siblings, Sober Klaus Hargreeves, Temporary Character Death, Time Travel Fix-It, Vanya Hargreeves Needs A Hug, a story told in stand-alone oneshots, and haunts Klaus, au where five dies in the apocalypse, because it's klaus, ben hargreeves is a little shit, cause his siblings don't believe that he can see Ben and Five, cause i refuse to allow that woman to be killed just to further a plot, dave comes in later i promise, drug overdose, in this house we love all the hargreeves children, ish anyway, klaus is so done with everyone's shit, klaus is still ready to throw hands, language but not too bad, not season/series 01 compliant, one-shots might not always be in sequential order, siblings being siblings, side character OC's, the four-corners squad, they aren't perfect but they're still family, time line jumping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:36:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 79,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24680113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackwolf066/pseuds/blackwolf066
Summary: An Au where Five dies young in the apocalypse, finds his way back to haunt his Séance brother, and now it's all up to Klaus to try and help put a stop to it all.Klausreallydidn't sign up for any of this.((Story told in stand-alone one-shots up until Chapter 12. Chapter 13 is where the Season 1 canon divergence starts.))
Relationships: Allison Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Dave/Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Eudora Patch, Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & Luther Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Ben Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Klaus Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Vanya Hargreeves
Series: The Ripples We Create;The Memories We Make [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1864759
Comments: 264
Kudos: 1035





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> (((This story was only ever meant to be a one-shot, but then the idea grew on me and BAM, chapters 2-21 happened. 
> 
> Originally, I had the intention of taking this prologue down once the story was completed; however, people wanted me to leave it up. They wanted to see and compare the rest of the story to what was essentially a short idea that I had never thought would go past 1,000+ words. So keep that in mind as you read.
> 
> This is also posted over on my Tumblr account by the same pen name ("Black-wolf066") I post sneak-peaks, headcanons, and theories if that is something anyone is interested in.
> 
> Heads up that chapters 2-12 are the in-between years. Anything after (unless stated otherwise) will be the start of the Season 1 AU divergent.
> 
> Enjoy!!)))

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus is not quite twenty-four, just a little over a year before the inevitable publishing of Vanya's book, when Five pops up out of the blue. And at the worst possible moment too as Klaus OD's on the ground of some seedy alleyway.

Klaus is not quite twenty-four, just a little over a year before the inevitable publishing of Vanya's book, when Five pops up out of the blue. And at the worst possible moment too as Klaus OD's on the ground of some seedy alleyway.

When he wakes up in the back of an ambulance, he thinks it was all just one big twisted hallucination. But then he looks over the EMT's shoulder and sees a glaring, near murderous Ben, which is not an uncommon sight at all considering where he landed himself (again). No, it's the pale figure standing beside Ben, a very rattled and pale ghost with the face of little number Five and--

"Well, shit."

Is all he can really articulate. 

Ben just glares harder.

After coming to grips with it (he will _never_ come to grips with it) and after hearing Five's sad tale; he seeks out the rest of their living siblings.

Really, he shouldn't have even bothered.

Much like how no one believed Klaus about Ben in the beginning, they sure as hell don't believe him about Five, or the bullshit he spits about the apocalypse being real (courtesy of Five telling him and Ben what all had happened after he disappeared). Klaus truly believes his brother's story, the proof of it clear enough on his ghostly corpse. The layer of soot that was too ashy and grey to really be grime. The slight wheeze to Five's words even though the boy was dead and no longer needed air. The hollowness of his cheeks and the clothes that hung too big on his too small, bony frame. 

It’s a scary thought, to know that all of humanity rests on Klaus' shoulders; and all because none of his siblings could be bothered to give Klaus the time of day.

"We're all doomed." Five puts eloquently. 

Klaus hisses at him, but he knows Five is right. He's the last person _anyone_ should put their faith in and yet Five didn't have much of a choice. 

Klaus didn't need the reminder.

Nor did he sign up for this shit. 

(None of them did, not Ben and surely not poor little number Five, who Klaus still has a hard time keeping long bouts of eye contact with; the image of his too small brother and the clear suffering he had gone through, far worse than when Ben had appeared all bloody and shadowed in the corner of his room at Seventeen).

Meanwhile the Commission are left scratching their heads and wondering what in the hell happened. What killed Five in the first place? Was it the starvation that did him in; or the ashy air that caused his lungs to stop filling altogether? Or was it the expired Twinkie that was the straw that broke the camel’s back?

(They don't dwell on it for long. What will be will be and all that jazz)

With two nagging brothers instead of one, Klaus has a harder time chasing and keeping his continued highs. Though he doesn't want this responsibility, would rather sit back and watch the world burn during his lower moments of weakness; Klaus finds, much like Five, that he doesn't have much of a choice either.

(The disappointment on anyone's face had always been a natural state in regards to Klaus. He was the family fuck up after all, the useless number out of the lot of them; and that included Vanya. He was used to it by now, but to see that disappointment on his kid brother, hurt more than he'd ever like to admit aloud). 

So he gets clean, or clean enough, no longer allowed to go for the harder stuff (the topic of Sobriety is a fight Ben and Five realize they will never win). Klaus needs something if he's to do this with his sanity still intact, the ghosts are just too damn loud, too unpredictable and too uncontrollable (not like he could ever control them in the first place) to really go full on cold turkey. 

At least it's a start in the right direction, so Ben and Five will take whatever they can get at this point.

With no leads other than a glass eyeball no longer in Five's possession, there isn't much Klaus can really do but wait for nightfall and break into the Meritech facility; a company he had never even heard of (until that day) that apparently the eyeball originated from ("Obviously it came from there, Klaus, pay attention!"). With Ben and Five acting as his lookout and scout respectively (to warn of any security wandering the building as well as to point out all the cameras to duck around and avoid), it doesn't take Klaus long to find the file room, but none of the files on hand have the serial number Five rattles off and they're back to square one. 

Between the span of the next six years, the harbinger of death will lose an eye and none of them know when exactly that will happen or who said harbinger will be.

And life continues on.

Klaus manages to get a job despite his record, and even a small apartment to live in. It's a shitty little studio in an even shittier part of town. It's all he can really afford, but it's the home he made for himself and his brothers and he couldn't ask for much more.

Vanya publishes her book, and though Klaus silently cheers on her ballsyness (even--deep down--understands why she did in it the first place) he would have liked it better had she not callously attacked him like she did everyone else. He debates on using the damn thing for kindling in the fireplace, but somehow can't bring himself to do it; not when it's the only picture he has of his sister despite the betrayal he feels burning in his chest.

It sits collecting dust on the bookshelf instead.

Then one day Vanya randomly appears in their ghostly midst and Klaus is honest to god ready to throw hands. 

"You know this is not what I ever had in mind about getting the four-corner squad back together again." Klaus mumbles.

"There never was a 'four-corner' squad," Five grunts, "You always just invited yourself along anyway."

_Fair_ , Klaus thinks, and smirks faintly at the twin smacks that resound in the apartment from Ben and Vanya hitting Five's arms. The little gremlin’s hissing as he threatens and dares them to do something like that ever again, do nothing to lighten the fact that Vanya is still very much dead and standing in the middle of his apartment.

"It would explain why I never found Ben or Vanya among the rest of your bodies." Five states sometime after Vanya is filled in on the whole stopping the world from ending shin ding.

Klaus doesn't ever meet her eyes the entire time they talk; skirting around the guilt laden looks she keeps shooting in his direction upon learning he was speaking the truth this whole damn time.

(Meanwhile the commission is scrambling to right this wrong, and they almost go back to save their bomb from getting hit by that car, until they realize the apocalypse is still happening)

Which is fitting, really, that where Vanya ends the world the first time, it's Klaus that ends it the second time (the commission just don't know it quite yet).

And _god_ doesn't _that_ just _suck_ to know he was the cause of his brother's suffering, even if the whole damn thing was nothing more than an accident.

Reginald still kicked the bucket (ding dong the abusive bastard’s dead). Harold still somehow managed to get his hands on the damn journal and was still hellbent on getting his vengeance against the umbrella academy; even without Vanya by his side.

With his living siblings distracted in their fight against Harold and the commission (still believing that Harold is the fuse somehow in all this chaos), Klaus is still kidnapped, tortured and forced to go cold turkey (but this time it's because he knows too much, Hazel and Cha Cha being sent out to find out how Klaus even knew about the apocalypse in the first place). He still gets saved in the end, still ends up back in time alone, fighting in a war because he was too scared to use the briefcase again and end up somewhere far worse. He still gains and then loses the love of his life (his Dave, his everything). Still dies, talks to dear old daddy and comes back--to the land of the living where his dead siblings all hover worriedly around him.

And all of this spirals with Klaus being absolutely and utterly done with everyone's shit: with the added scary bonus of secondary powers he didn't realize he even had (nor can control) due to said cold turkey experience. 

In the end Harold really was the fuse, and the world is ended because his ghostly siblings couldn't penetrate the fog of Klaus' panic attack to calm him down (a panic attack induced by a mix of PTSD, the complete lack of faith his living siblings still have in him, and the resulting battle that ensues as Harold strikes the mansion).

His already uncontrollable telekinesis goes ballistic when the mansion explodes from C-4 Harold had planted around the block. He doesn't see the fighting that results from it, he doesn't see Luther rip Harold's eye out either (an eye he gained from pissing off the wrong people at the wrong time in his incarceration). All he hears is the fighting, the loud explosions, and the crumbling of the building around him. All he can smell is the smoke. All he can feel is the heat of the flames as they begin to lick teasingly at his skin and before he knows it, he finds himself back in that god forsaken jungle. 

And so, ends all of ‘something’.

it's not a moon chunk to end everything in a fiery blaze of death, but an earthquake as Klaus' power unintentionally shifts the tectonic plates enough to set off every volcano in the world (dormant or otherwise).

Oh well.  
C'est la vie  
What will be, will be.


	2. Getting Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben's nagging is so completely and utterly second nature now that Klaus has gotten pretty good at tuning it out--after seven years practically joined at the hip, it's kinda hard not to--but Five is a new player on the mine field of Klaus' daily life, and Five is nothing if not adaptable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (((After posting the Au idea with Five dying young in the apocalypse, i’ve had several head canon’s and snippets of what the life Klaus lived with Ben and Five (and later Vanya) haunting his every move could have been like. They wouldn’t leave me alone while at work today so i figured i would give some of those ideas life.
> 
> Some of these snippets will be light hearted, and some of them may even be sad, so at this point i can’t just say this is a complete angst piece of work anymore, can I? lol.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy everyone!))

After the dead-end that was the eyeball, ("No Five, I'm not camping out here for the next six years waiting for some Joe Schmo to show up." "What does _me_ being homeless have to do with anything!"), the three have no choice but to continue onward and Klaus goes back to doing what he does best (much to both of his brothers chagrin). 

Ben's nagging is so completely and utterly second nature now that Klaus has gotten pretty good at tuning it out--after seven years practically joined at the hip, it's kinda hard not to--but Five is a new player on the mine field of Klaus' daily life, and Five is nothing if not adaptable (the little shit). Never has he backed down from a challenge or a hard equation when he see's one, and Klaus is no exception (much to Klaus' own chagrin). 

Five gets why Klaus is the way he is now, just as Ben does (it only took for them both to die to understand it completely, but they do). He can see the wispy, hazy, grey images that try to surround them on all sides, can hear the muted whispers and wails whenever Klaus begins to toe the dangerous line of sober. So yeah, he gets it, but Five has also seen the dead body of his brother _twice_ now. Sure the second time didn't exactly stick (He stood frozen, numb and cold, as the body of his brother in the alley mingled with that of the body surrounded in ash and rubble. Dead. Chocked on his own foaming bile. Dead. His chest broken beyond repair as the soot marred pale white skin. Dead. Dead. Dea--) but Five would be damned if he had to see Klaus' lifeless body once again. If that happened, and Klaus didn't wake up again; Five would move on, for the soul purpose of hunting his brother down in the afterlife just so he could beat him black and blue. (He's dead. His brother is _dead_. Number Four is dead in a cold dark alley and he can't even touch him to bury him this time around). 

So where Ben lacks, Five fills in the gaps. He gets creative (or as creative as a thirteen year old ghost who can't interact with _anything_ can be; but again, he's nothing if not adaptable) and goes for the cheap shots that even Ben isn't daring enough to touch. He can see the way Klaus can't always meet his eyes most days, can see the sad way Klaus (and Ben) often look at him, knowing his life ended far too early (Five doesn't like to dwell on his current state; down right refuses to acknowledge it actually). He knows there's that unwarranted and undeserved guilt there (it's not Klaus' fault he got trapped in the future. It's not Klaus' fault he was so desperate and hungry that he ate that damn twinkie until it was gone despite the god-awful taste it had left in its wake. It's definitely not Klaus' fault that his own damn body couldn't recover from the food poisoning afterwards) he can see it, and like a true Hargreeves, he uses it for all it's worth. 

Eventually, between the two, they wear Klaus down enough to actually start trying to get clean (and if ghosts could cry, Ben would be doing it at the shear and utter relief that finally, finally something got through to the stubborn oaf that was their brother). 

They're there resolutely beside him when he checks himself _willingly_ into a rehab. They're there through the best and worst of it all, through the cursing and the begging and the angry mood-swinging tantrums as Klaus goes through withdrawal hard. 

The ghosts though, god they're awful to even look at--let alone hear (how the hell is Klaus not deaf yet?)--and Five truly sympathizes with his brother for the first time in a long time. He gets why Klaus' need for touch is so important now, he gets why Klaus would always sway from side to side when they were kids, never sitting still, always flinching at things that none of the rest of them could ever hope to understand (not that they had ever tried to begin with). The ghosts, and the wraiths posing as human’s, that flock to his brother like a beacon are angry and loud and disgusting, but they annoy Five enough to make him angrier and louder (he can see his brother was close to cracking, and that just wouldn't do). He refuses to allow screaming, bleeding banshees to undo their hard work, and somehow, some way (the three of them aren't going to look a gift horse in the mouth) Five manages to scare most of those ghouls away--a feat even Ben could never accomplish, not fully anyway, not like Five.

Seeing their retreat--from a thirteen year old boy no less--has Klaus rolling in manic hysteria; and if there are tears and sobs of relief that mingle with those laughs, none of them feel the need to point it out.

The ghosts don't really ago away. They're still there; lingering in the shadows, angry and waiting to strike like poisonous snakes, but Five _never_ backs down from a challenge and if him and Ben have to be the guard dogs so Klaus can get a few hours of peace, then so be it. 

In the end weed helps chase away all the rest. 

He's not clean like how Ben would want, but even Five knows when a battle can't be won. So long as Klaus stays away from the harder stuff, and actually gets his weed from legal sources (to prevent the risk of getting an unclean batch and throwing Klaus back into the deep end), then he will take what he can get. 

The fate of the world still looms heavy on his shoulders, and by extension Klaus' and Ben’s. He knows not of how they're going to stop it or what they even have to keep a look out for. But as they walk down the street--as they continue to head into the unknown-- with Klaus' and Ben's banter drifting back into his ears; Five can't help but feel for the first time since his soul was pulled through time to materialize alongside his brothers, that the three of them might just be able to pull this off.


	3. Our Place to Call Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The building was washed out and unkempt, the neighborhood he was located in looking as though it had never seen what better days even looked like. The apartment itself made even his old room seem bigger, but it was affordable with the temporary grant given to him (and would continue to be affordable once he found a job to better sustain himself) and that was enough for him.
> 
> No matter how small, it was his, and between the three of them, they filled it with everything their father would have hated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((((I'm truly enjoying the hell out of writing and bringing this AU to life. And the more and more i do, the fluffier it seems to be getting (or as fluffy as these emotionally constipated idiots can get anyway).
> 
> Enjoy everyone!!! ^_^))))

Being homeless had never truly bothered Klaus after he had left the academy behind him. Especially not when he had chosen it of his own free will.

At the ripe age of seventeen years, four months, and twelve days old (“Yes Ben, I remember the exact date I left. _No one_ can forget that week of utter _fun_ ; no matter how hard one tries.”), Klaus hadn’t had very many choices laid out for him to pick from. It had been either leave everything behind for the streets (where he had a better chance of making it on his own) or stay and deal with a cruel man who had never cared for him—or any of them for that matter—and never hesitated in reminding him of his uselessness in that household.

Sure, leaving would have entailed wandering into the unknown, with food, shelter and his next fix not ever being a solid guarantee, but staying hadn’t exactly been an option for him either (not after Five, and certainly not after Ben—still so very fresh in his grave at that point in time). Staying would have required him to accept the knowledge that Reginald would end up killing him—or his remaining siblings—with the missions the old man continuously forced them on.

In the end, the streets were the lesser of two evils in Klaus’ opinion.

(As he crept out late in the night with nothing more than a knapsack, three hundred some odd dollars pilfered from Luther’s shoe box hidden under the floorboard beneath his bed, and the clothes on his back; Klaus spared one fleeting thought to the rest of his brothers and sisters; hoping they too would be smart enough to leave before it was too late.)

Once out there, he—and by extension, Ben—had finally been free to do whatever he had damn well pleased. To go wherever his feet led him, without a single care in the world. Sure it hadn’t been easy; some days worse than others (a fight here, a drug deal gone south there, the lack of food or a warm place to sleep when the nights would get too cold), but he had finally been handed the reigns of his own destiny and nothing anyone could do or say would have stopped him from enjoying that high (not even a concerned Ben dogging his every step).

It took plenty of trial and error on his part (but Five wasn’t the only one capable of adaptability in the family), and plenty of months honing the skills he had learned for a different purpose then what they were originally intended for. Nevertheless, Klaus had made his new lifestyle work.

And for seven blissfully, foggy years, it _did_ work.

Then Five up and died, came back from the future (“Called it!” “ _Congratulations_ , you’re not a complete idiot.” “ _Hey!_ I could deal without the sarcasm, Five-y, but I’ll still take the compliment!”) to haunt him, and suddenly Klaus’ blissful little world went up in figurative smoke and flames.

His lifestyle, he knew, was no longer a viable option; not with his resolve to stay relatively clean for Ben and Five’s sake. Not with the streets being a vixen of temptation he would succumb to the longer he was out there, and certainly not with the end of times looming like a distant gale in the background of what his life had apparently become.

God, no one told him being a responsible adult would _suck_ quite this much _._

(***)

“Sorry, occupancy is full.”

With a tired sigh, Klaus turned on his heel and left the shelter for the park.

“You could try another one rather than just giving up, you know. It’s not even that late out.” Five griped.

No, it wasn’t late at all, but Five didn’t know the streets like Klaus and Ben did. Five didn’t know each and every shelter within the city limit or that that particular establishment didn’t have a very reputable reputation to begin with. Herman Housing was usually the homeless’ last pick; the staff habitually rude and ill-tempered, the food border-line questionable, and the water from the showers leaving one feeling dirtier then when they first walked in. So, if Herman Housing—of all places—was full at this early hour of the day, then there was no point in wasting his time and energy trying for a bed somewhere else.

He was too tired and grumpy to communicate any of this information to Five.

Ben—bless him and his knack for knowing just what he’s thinking—voiced this for him.

“Well, you still can’t just sleep out here on the bench, Klaus.”

“Watch me.” He flopped back dramatically in his seat for added effect and grinned as Five looked for all the world like a riled cat.

“Klaus,” Ben cut in sharply before the argument could start. “You saw the news at Griddy’s. A blizzard’s coming and it’s going to be bad. Just go to Diego or Vanya, please—you know they won’t turn you away.”

No, they wouldn’t (not with the incoming threat of four feet of snow looming on the horizon), but his wounds were still fresh from their blatant dismissal when he tried to tell them Five had finally showed up to haunt his pathetic ass. It shouldn’t hurt, not when none of them every really believed him to begin with (even before Ben), but it did and still does. Ghosts were his thing after all, it shouldn’t have been that hard to believe. Sure, the drugs fundamentally nulled his powers almost completely, but his siblings should know by now that nothing he put in his system would stop Ben—or Five or any of them—from manifesting if they wanted too. His siblings were just that right side of stubborn pain in the asses that Klaus hoped none of the other spirits ever caught on too or he’d _really_ be in trouble.

As the temperature continued to drop, and his brothers continued to pester and hound him like the mother hens they freaking were; he threw up his hands in defeat with a frustrated “ _Fine,_ I’m moving, I’m moving, you happy?”

He went to Diego.

(***)

The next incident, was just two weeks before Vanya would begin writing her book (not that Klaus would know that). It was just a normal night, the chill not as biting despite it being the dead of winter, when Klaus’ past actions finally came to bite him annoyingly in the ass.

He fought as hard as he could—he can honestly say that he did try—against his ruthless ex-drug dealer, but hand to hand combat had never been one of his strong suits growing up, and even if it had been; eight pitted against one simply wasn’t a fair fight (and a little over kill if you asked him). Being nimble and light on his feet also didn’t help when his exits were being blocked at every turn.

He managed to take out one fellow and roughed up two more before he was down for the count; knocked out cold and still being beaten and shaken down for what little money he had left in his pockets.

Ben and Five watched it all happen fearfully and angrily; helpless to do anything but be silent witnesses as their brother was beaten black and blue in the alley he was chased into.

When he eventually, and thankfully, awoke the next morning, he didn’t go to the Emergency room despite their concerned prompting (“You could be bleeding internally, Klaus!” “Don’t care, Ben, still not going.” “You’re a dumb-ass, you know that?” “Why thank you, Five.” “That’s not a compliment asshole, go to the damn hospital!” “Nope.” “You are _insufferable_!”). Hospitals were as bad as graveyards, and Klaus avoided them both like they would give him the plague.

Instead, in the early hours of the morning, with the streets and sidewalks still quiet with the sun not yet out to wake the living; he shuffled and limped his way slowly and blurrily towards Vanya’s home; her apartment being closer than Diego’s place of current residence or an emergency room either way.

Vanya took him to the hospital anyway.

(***)

Within a span of five months after the incident, bouncing from homeless shelter to endless homeless shelter (occasionally crashing at Diego’s or Vanya’s when the nagging got to be too much) and applying for whatever aid the government would be willing to give him; found Klaus with his very own studio apartment to call home.

The building was washed out and unkempt, the neighborhood he was located in looking as though it had never seen what better days even looked like. The apartment itself made even his old room seem bigger, but it was affordable with the temporary grant given to him (and would continue to be affordable once he found a job to better sustain himself) and that was enough for him.

No matter how small, it was his, and between the three of them, they filled it with everything their father would have hated. With bright colors, tacky furniture (that was cheap, and well used, but still comfortable to sink into) and wacky patterned curtains, pillows and throws, that shouldn’t normally go together but somehow Klaus had made work (despite Ben’s and Five’s obvious doubt before seeing it themselves).

Ben finally had the library of his dreams. It wasn’t nearly as big as the one back at the mansion, but it was an ever growing collection that Klaus continued to enable (sure he had to hold open the books for Ben to read, but if it made the book-worm happy, he was willing to do it; a small price to pay for all the shit he’s put him through over the years). There was even a section for Five’s theory and mathematical volumes and an even smaller section for Klaus’ own collection (nothing noteworthy, just a few comics and fictional works of fantasy and romance).

The rest of Ben’s knick-knacks were just as random and odd as Klaus’, but the Polaroid camera and the photo albums Klaus began to fill up for him; were definitely among Ben’s top favorites.

In the beginning it was hard to figure out what Klaus could bring home for Five to make him feel included. Five’s interests geared more toward having to be tangible to do them (much to his displeasure). That still didn’t stop Klaus from buying the chalkboard easel he later found at a second hand store, and on days when Five would get restless and fidgety, Klaus would humor him for a few hours and write whatever complicated and convoluted equations he wanted written out on that very same easel (“No Five, I’m not writing on the walls.” “ _I don’t care_ if there isn’t enough space left on the chalkboard, you aren’t gonna be of any help when _I have to paint over it_ now will you?”). He ends up buying another chalkboard and a white board to appease the irritable gremlin. 

The dart board he had found not long after, had also been a nice addition as well; it wasn’t as nice as the one Five had back in his old room, but it still played a melancholy homage it (to the fonder memories Five had of challenging Ben or Diego or Klaus during their down time between training—more so Ben and Klaus, since Diego’s power was essentially cheating).

Ben and Klaus also learned—along with Five himself it would seem—that the forever stuck thirteen-year-old held an interest for anything nautical or tropical in nature; having seen him eye certain pieces every time they’d walk into some of the antique stores Klaus liked to frequent.

The spyglass, the random colorful sea shells, the oceanic themed paintings, and the little anchor shaped paper weight— the metallic object situated on Five’s side of the bookshelf—went without much fanfare, but that was okay, the smile on his brother’s face when he placed them in their home was reward enough.

Their place might not be much worth noting—maybe even _a little_ crazy, and _a little_ over-crowded with nonsensical junk to the outside looking in—and though his brothers really didn’t need the space or any of the knick-knacks Klaus continued to buy for them; it was their home regardless.

It was the home the three of them were making for themselves and _it was enough_.

(Oh, and they bought a coffee machine that Klaus _honestly_ has no idea he will even use, but said _why the hell not_ anyway ‘cause fuck you dad!)


	4. Mama Margie’s Pancake House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are you, two?” he exhaled with an eye roll.
> 
> “Do I look like Diego to you?” Klaus gasped with mock offense, hand flying to his chest and smearing frosting and crumbs all over the bright colored fabric.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((I just wanna take a moment to thank you guys so much for reading and for your continued support. The response I’ve been getting for this fic has completely blown me away beyond what I even expected it to garner—not everyone likes Au’s after all and even more so Character Death.
> 
> What was supposed to be a one-off idea snowballed into this and I truly have all of you to thank for it; your responses and kudo’s are what gives my muse the will to write. So, thank you for being awesome and amazing people and I hope I can continue to make this wild ride enjoyable for all of you.
> 
> P.S. While I originally had this chapter in mind to do anyway; I’m still dedicating it to Hujwernoo, since they had asked what job I would have had Klaus doing. I hope the occupation and how it came to be, doesn’t disappoint))

The upside of where they lived, was the fact it was the _farthest_ it could possibly be (without leaving the city) from the Mansion. The downside of where they lived, is that Griddy’s was just as far. Which was a shame really—there trips there being a once in a blue moon opportunity now. Five liked that place, it held fond memories for all of them; not to mention the doughnuts that put other pastry shops to shame. Though he couldn’t eat anything anymore, it was nice to live vicariously through Klaus as he’d order a Boston crème for him, a strawberry frosting for Ben, and a coconut custard for Klaus himself to eat there or to take home.

(Often times they usually ate them there, since Ben normally got a kick out of watching the waitress’ reaction when skinny, lanky as a weed, Klaus would inhale three giant doughnuts like it was nothing. Five could admit it was amusing to see also, in a mildly disturbing sort of way.)

Another upside to their neighborhood: there was plenty of job openings that were within walking distance.

After two weeks of failed attempts to get hired _anywhere_ ; however, made that tick in the pro column a little lackluster.

So, here they were, in the back booth of Griddy’s, so Klaus could drown his sorrows in a sugar high (“You won’t let me drown them in anything else; so, let me have this!” “When you lose a leg, don’t come crying to us.” “Shut your pie hole, Ben; said with love!”). At this point Five was inclined to agree with Ben; the large vanilla malt milkshake and the four doughnuts Klaus had splurged on, would lead to a diabetic coma before anything else.

He bet twenty, non-existent dollars, on Klaus passing out on the subway home and missing his stop. Ben didn’t think he’d get even _that_ far.

“its not the end of the world, Klaus.” At Five’s minuscule finch, Ben shot him a sheepish look, before continuing. “You still have seven places that haven’t gotten back to you yet, just be patient.”

Klaus and patience should not be in the same sentence.

**_Not true_** , a voice in the back of his head reminded him; memories of all the times Klaus _was_ patient—when it mattered the most—when it came to their brothers and sisters (like allowing Diego to work through his stuttering sentences, or when Ben’s spirit would break apart a little more after each mission).

Klaus slurping loudly at his milkshake in response to Ben, had Five snapping back to the present.

“What are you, two?” he exhaled with an eye roll.

“Do I look like Diego to you?” Klaus gasped with mock offense, hand flying to his chest and smearing frosting and crumbs all over the bright colored fabric. “I think our dear brother would be very offended if he knew you thought that, Fivey”

“Well, lucky for me he doesn’t believe that I’m here.” Five bit out with his shark like smile firmly in place.

With a petulant huff (and farther proving Five’s case), Klaus stuck his tongue out, picked up the glazed blueberry cake pastry and shoveled as much of it into his mouth as he could fit—his cheeks puffing up like a chipmunk as he chewed unabashedly with his mouth open.

Five and Ben snorted in simultaneous exasperation.

(***)

“What do we want to eat, today?” Klaus addressed them at large as he waltzed down the street with him and Ben trailing behind. “I’m thinking tacos.”

“it’s Eight in the morning, Klaus.” Ben responded with a chuckle.

“Ex-squeeze me?!” Klaus gasped and whirled to face them; ignoring the scandalized look of the business woman and the perturbed expressions from the other city dwellers that passed them. “It’s never too early for tacos!”

“What about waffles?”

“We had waffles yesterday!”

“Well maybe I want them today.” Ben answered back with a grin, throwing Five a wink as Klaus rolled his eyes exaggeratedly sky-ward; arms flying out and nearly hitting the kid running for his bus.

“I don’t think I can stomach three helpings again.”

“Then don’t order it.” Five huffed. “I don’t know why you bother; it’s not like we can eat the damn things.”

“It’s tradition!”

“It’s a waste of money.” Five countered. “Especially since you _still_ don’t have a job.”

“Well then screw you, I’m getting my tacos!”

“Aw man,” Ben bemoaned sarcastically, causing Five to scoff out a chuckle as they continued to move down the bustling street.

They were rounding the corner for the subway entrance when a voice behind them stopped the three in their tracks. Five quickly turned to the new comer and glared (if it was a living person, they wouldn’t see it, and if it was another ghost, then they would get the picture and scram soon enough) but Klaus and Ben were slower to face him.

Before them, stood an elderly man no older than late seventies. He was looking directly at Klaus, and Five would have thought the man was alive had it not been for his bare feet on the pavement and the flannel pajamas clad on his figure. He could have excused it as an escaped patient—there was a retirement home just up the street after all—but Five was getting better at spotting the differences, and the tell-tale lack of the man’s chest rising and falling, was a dead giveaway (pun very much intended). Five was just about to open his mouth to warn the guy off, but the man cut him off before he could.

“You were at my wife’s diner yesterday, yes?” He spoke, French accent thick but also diluted (like he’d been away from his homeland for decades).

“Uh,” Klaus uttered eloquently.

“You are also looking for a job, no? I saw the newspapers you were looking through.” He rushed to explain. “If you could give my wife a message for me, I can help you get hired at our diner.”

“She’s not looking for any more help though, he already asked.” Ben answered.

“You give my wife my message,” he repeated, eyes never straying from Klaus’ wide eyed stare. “I can guarantee you, that she will hire you once she knows it’s me.”

“No offense,” Klaus began slowly, highly uncomfortable with the situation at large. “But I don’t like playing telephone for the dead. I do this for you then I’m gonna have to do it for all of them; know what I mean?”

The grey, distorted images—still hovering in the shadows—shifted desperately (dangerously) in Five’s periphery more and more as they talked; him and Ben moving to flank either side of their brother in case one of them got brave enough to step forward. With a harsh glare around him, the shadows calmed and receded back to the edges.

“You need a job; I heard him say so.” The man gestured toward Five. “I won’t ask for anything more; you help me, and I will help you.”

Klaus narrowed his eyes, his head tilting slightly in thought. “And what if she doesn’t believe me? I do quite enjoy the food there, would be very tragic if I got banned from the place.”

“She’ll believe you, but _only_ if you tell her everything I have to say.”

“It’s worth a shot.” Ben prompted.

Klaus turned to him and hissed lowly, “I’m not kidding Ben, that place has delicious crepes and I haven’t even had the beignets yet!”

“Klaus,” Five sneered out in frustration “That’s _really_ all you can think about right now?”

Head bouncing back and forth, meeting mirrored unimpressed looks; Klaus groaned loudly and gestured for the old man to lead the way.

“ _Fine_ , but if this goes south, I want that recipe, old man.”

(***)

Turns out, the old man was right.

All Klaus had needed to utter was “Mon chou has a message for you,” before the petite woman was tearfully ushering him into the privacy of her office.

(“Who the hell names their significant other ‘my cabbage’ as an endearment?” “I don’t know Five, but I do sense a _tantalizing_ story behind it, isn’t that right, old man?”)

Five situated himself up on the little wooden bookshelf off to the side, Ben leaning against the wall near it, while Klaus and the old man—Mitchell, he had introduced himself along the way—sat in the chairs stationed in front the woman’s desk.

“You believe me?” Klaus asked incredulously, tentatively—his octave almost painfully on the borderline of hope—as he regarded her wrinkle and laugh lined face.

“I do young man,” she spoke, her voice also accented, but more so with a Cajun drawl that was thick and strong. “I haven’t heard that endearment since before Mitch and I were married. Our kids don’t even know of it, so the fact you do, can only mean he talked to you.”

“Margie,” Klaus trailed off, allowing either the woman or Mitchell to correct him if he was wrong—but considering she owned the diner, it was a 50/50 shot that the name was truly hers. At her nod, he continued. “Your husband says, that what happened, wasn’t your fault.”

“ _Merde,_ Mitch, of course it’s my fault. I _knew_ you had your heart condition and I still pushed you.”

“He says it’s _not_ your fault, so stop blaming yourself. He was smoking behind your back and sneaking cups of coffee when you or—Evie? Or did you say Roxie? Slow down old man I can’t get everything at once.” Mitch shot him an apologetic look and Klaus continued. “It’s his fault, he didn’t listen to the doctor’s warnings, he didn’t listen to you or your daughter, he tricked Roxie and Adam enough times to think the coffee maker you have out there was faulty.”

“So, it wasn’t broken? Mitch!”

“Sorry, Mon Cherie.”

Ben and Five snorted off to the side. If the man wasn’t already dead, the look on Margie’s face would have been terrifying. The cowed expression on Mitchell; however, showed he still very much _was_ terrified of his wife’s wrath, even in death.

“He says he’s sorry for everything, that he loves you more than the brightest star in the sky, and that he’s keeping to his promise in waiting for you, so you both may move on together. He also—wait really? You hid your wife’s anniversary present in the ceiling light?!”

“It’s _around_ the ceiling light, not in it; and it did the trick, didn’t it? She never found it.”

“Yeah, and she never _would have_ if I wasn’t here.”

With a sigh and a flourish, Klaus hopped up onto the desk and poked around the ceiling tiles surrounding the light until a little black box fell, hitting him square in the face before he could catch it (much to Five’s amusement, but Ben was the one who laughed outright in unrestrained glee). It was a pair of emerald earrings, the shade of Margie’s eyes, Mitchell had explained.

A few more tearful words were exchanged, and though Five wished they would speed this along, he understood it to a small degree—the longing he held of getting to speak to his other siblings settling a little deeper in his chest.

When all was said and done, Mitchell kept to the promise he gave Klaus.

“But I don’t need anyone else working here, I have four servers and three cooks—which is more than enough for this place. And I can’t take hours away from Roxie, you know that. Poor girl is struggling enough with three kids on her own.”

“Adam will be quitting soon.” Klaus relayed.

“I’m sorry?”

“Mitchell says that he overheard Adam talking about a job proposal in Texas, and that he’s planning on taking it. You’ll be down a waiter for the night shift.”

“Oh,” Margie began, blinking owlishly as the information settled. “Well then, I suppose it couldn’t hurt to hire you for the time being. You won’t have very many hours though, not until Adam steps forward and leaves.”

“That’s better odds then what you had before, Klaus.” Ben stated encouragingly.

Klaus waved his hand dismissively in his direction, before shooting Margie a broad smile.

“I’ll take whatever you can give me. Now, if you’ll excuse me; I believe there are beignets, with my name on them, screaming to be eaten.”

“Klaus!”

He spun on his heel and waltzed out of the office with Ben dogging behind him in frustrated-fondness. Five snorted, shook his head and moved to follow, and before the door could close behind him; he heard Margie’s chuckling words as she spoke to the air beside her.

“Things are going to get pretty interesting around here, Mitch.”

Interesting indeed.


	5. Mischief of Time Long Gone, But Never Forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Klaus!” three voices ground out at once and Klaus cackled once again.
> 
> “You, dear sister, were not subtle about it, like, at all.” He finally answered, only pausing for a second as a sudden thought crossed his mind. “You know, I’m surprised no one else figured it out. You were practically bouncing off the walls for an entire week before your little plan fell into motion.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Look out, a wild Vanya appears!  
> I’ve known for a while that none of these one-shots would be in order, and though I was trying really hard to keep them in sequence, this one just had to be written before any of the others (it has become, by far, my favorite chapter of the whole series so far and i do hope you enjoy it).  
> I will try and give hints as to where in the time-line each chapter from here on out rests, but you’ll have to forgive me if I forget to do so sometimes.  
> This chapter is set a month after Vanya’s death, and a little over 3 and a half years before Reginald’s own that sparks everything into motion.  
> I've also started posting sneak peaks over on my tumblr account (by the same pen name), so keep a look out for them.  
> With that being said, the four-corners squad is officially in full swing with this chapter.  
> Enjoy!))

The late summer night was hot and stifling as Klaus and Five meandered the quick walk home from the diner. He was burning and grumpy and smelt like sweat, coffee and grease, and all Klaus wanted was a nice shower, a big bowl of ice cream (or the whole carton, whatever came first) and some sleep. It wasn’t like his shift had been all that grueling, a little busier than usual for this time of night maybe, but still manageable. No, it was the heat wave, paired with Margie’s AC going on the fritz that had him so dog-tired and irritable.

Thoughts of his own—beautiful, marvelous and wonderfully working—AC had him hurrying a little faster as he unlocked and entered their apartment complex; only to pause in the threshold as the jaunty little tune of a violin floated down from the third floor.

Sometimes, Klaus was grateful that only _he_ could hear the ghosts of his siblings—he could only imagine some of the outrageous noise complaints he’d receive if the rest of the world could hear them too. As it were, there were only a _few_ citations and most of his neighbors simply thought he was crazy and gave him a wide berth.

The tune shifted to something a little more fast paced—but no less peppy in nature—as they reached the second landing.

Klaus shared a look with Five.

“Sounds like someone’s in a better mood.”

Five rolled his eyes and ascended the rest of the steps, calling over his shoulder. “You _were_ a bit of a jackass, earlier.”

“Fair,” Klaus muttered as he watched Five disappear through the closed, paint-chipped, door.

By the time he arrived inside the apartment himself, Klaus’ foul mood was almost entirely forgotten upon the sight that greeted him. Ben was sitting by the window sill, legs swinging lazily and hands clapping along to the melody that filled the small space. Vanya stood in the middle of the room, swaying to and fro as her fingers and bow flew elegantly across the strings. The small, shy smiles she would normally give, were replaced with something more carefree and unguarded; the skin around her eyes crinkling as she chuckled softly at something Five said.

It was nice to see for a change, to see her coming out of her shell more and more (a shame she had to die for it to happen, but still a nice thing to see all the same).

“Excuse me, Miss,” Klaus drawled in a fake southern accent as he flopped down on the futon—a small break before showering wouldn’t kill him. “But are you taking requests this fine evening?”

(***)

The apartment was, decidedly, a whole lot quieter after his shower, the low drone of voices from the little TV in the corner of his kitchenette, being the only sound. He hopped up on the little island to sit crisscross with his bowl in hand (“You don’t need the carton, Klaus.” “Who asked you, Five?” “It is a little excessive.” “I didn’t ask you either, Vanya.” “Klaus, you’re gonna get diabetes if you keep this up.” “I’m an adult, Ben; I’ll do whatever the hell I want!”) and picked up the remote to change the show.

“Hey, I was watching that!” Five jerked his head back to glare at him and Klaus stuck his tongue out in retaliation.

“You’ve had thirty minutes to watch it, but my shower is done now and it’s _my_ TV; so, my turn.” He wiggled the fingers of his Goodbye hand before plopping a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.

If looks could kill, Klaus would be six feet under by now. As it were, Five couldn’t do much more then glower and pout (“I’m not pouting!” “You are too!”), as the channels were surfed. Ben and Vanya shook their heads in amusement, sharing a look as they made themselves comfortable up on the counter as well.

There wasn’t much on at two in the morning, mostly infomercials that they added useless, snide commentary too, before switching to the next. Eventually they landed upon some family-oriented show. It was light-hearted and funny enough to keep it on, not to mention Klaus was getting tired of flipping for something while simultaneously eating his frozen treat (before it could become a warm soup of utter disappointment).

His mind was half on the show and half on what he would have to buy at the grocery store later in the morning, when the siblings on the screen began pranking each other and starting an all-out war.

“Aw, now doesn’t _that_ just bring back some fond memories.” Klaus stated nostalgically.

“For you maybe, you were the culprit half the time.” Five snorted.

Klaus gasped; hand flying to his bare chest. “Not true!” the twin snorts and unamused expressions from Five and Vanya, had him squawking indigently. “ _I wish_ I could take credit for half the things you think I did, but I didn’t.” Glancing at a silent Ben, who’s dark eyes were boring holes in his head—daring him to say something—Klaus grinned wickedly. “Ben here though, now _that's_ a different story. _Man_ was he the absolute _worst_!”

“Klaus!”

“No, no, you wipe that affronted look right off your face! You know _exactly_ what you used to do!”

Five and Vanya exchanged stunned expressions before slowly turning their attention to a peeved Ben.

“Traitor.” Ben groaned.

“ _Hey,_ our siblings deserve to know you weren’t the quiet, little _saint_ they painted you out to be. I knew better.”

Ben scowled. “You helped me half the time!”

Klaus held up a hand, his pointer finger shooting sky-ward as he remarked with a shit-eating grin. “Only because _you_ wanted my help, those ideas were all you, Benny-boo. Embrace it!”

Vanya cut in, looking as if her whole world was a lie the longer this conversation went. “Wait, wait, wait, so the creepy doll I found in my wardrobe; that wasn’t you?”

Klaus shook his head.

“The itching powder in our pillow cases?” Five voiced next, staring at Ben as if he were seeing him for the first time.

Klaus simply pointed his finger at a sulking Ben in answer.

“My chalk being replaced with clay sticks?” Five again. “The mouse traps? The cotton balls? Our things frozen in cubes of ice in the freezer?”

“The glitter in our socks and shoes? Or the apple sauce in our shampoo?” Vanya, looking more and more horrified as a sudden memory surfaced. “No! Not the toothpaste crème puffs! That was you?!”

Klaus choked. “No, no… no. That one was all me. But in _my defense_ , that prank was for dear old dad. We weren’t really allowed to have sweets—besides the occasional chocolate chip cookie.” He conceded when Five looked ready to rebuff him. “So how was I supposed to know everyone else would be eating them too?”

The silence that rung out in the room, was deafening.

So, naturally, Klaus filled it with his laughter; positively delighting in Ben’s calamity. “It’s the quiet one’s you gotta watch out for. Silent, but _extremely_ deadly.”

“Thanks a lot, Klaus.” Ben huffed with a glare, then sagged in defeat.

The grave was already dug, nothing left to be done about it now.

“What about the gorilla glue incident.” Five began, narrowing his eyes between the two; the smirk on his face promising nothing but danger. “Which one of you idiots did that? And if you say Ben, I swear to go—”

Klaus cleared his throat _loudly_ to cut him off, before rolling his head melodramatically to his left. “Credit goes to our _dear_ little sister for that shit-storm.”

Five and Ben looked ready to call bullshit on that, but the wide-eyed—caught red handed—look on Vanya’s face had them both going slack jawed in disbelief.

“No way,” apparently it was Five’s turn now to learn his world was an utter lie.

“I feel betrayed.”

Klaus crowed at them both, clapping his hands loudly together in positive glee. “That’s right, _all the dirty little secrets_ are coming out tonight!”

“How did you know?”

Her voice was so soft, Klaus almost didn’t hear it over his brother’s indignation. “Ex-cusums?”

“How did you know it was me?” She said it louder, meeting his eyes with the question ringing clear in her own. Five and Ben quieted down immediately, both waiting to hear his response.

“Oh Vanya,” Klaus commenced, voice sing-songing in a drawl as he lorded this information over them all. “Vanya, Vanya, Vanya. Our sweet, lovable little sis—”

“Klaus!” three voices ground out at once and Klaus cackled once again.

“You, _dear sister_ , were not subtle about it, like _, at all_.” He finally answered, only pausing for a second as a sudden thought crossed his mind. “You know, I’m surprised no one else figured it out. You were practically bouncing off the walls for an entire week before your little plan fell into motion.”

“If I recall, you got pranked too, Klaus.” Five scoffed. “So obviously you weren’t _that_ observant.”

“Only because I didn’t know exactly _what_ our dear sister was up too—not at the time, at least. I quickly put it together after though.”

“And you still took the blame for it?” Vanya breathed in wonder. “Why? If you knew it was me, why didn’t you say anything?”

Klaus shrugged, the mood unfortunately shifting with it. With a faux jovial tone and a larger than normal smile that was all teeth, he forced out as casually as he could. “Why, I’m the family fuck up, of course.” clearing his throat, he pushed for something a little more light-hearted to save what was left of the night. “Besides, who would have believed our mousy little sister was capable of an evil on par with Ben?”

Klaus didn’t feel like breaking the silence that rung out this time.

“Klaus, I—”

“Tis,” Klaus cut her off softly as he deflected. “I believe the spiders were your handy-work as well. Am I wrong?”

With that, the somber mood diminished as Ben—the resident arachnophobe—rounded on Vanya with wide, wild eyes. “Seriously?! That was you?! That thing laid eggs, Vanya! Eggs! Plural!”

“Oops,”

“That’s all you have to say for yourself? I was killing those things in my room for days! Three. Whole. Terrifying. Days, Vanya! Before Dad finally had Pogo fumigate the whole house! I had nightmares for _years_!”

“How was I supposed to know it was pregnant before I released it?” she asked as innocently as she could make herself be in the face of danger.

The stuttering, incensed mess, Ben was reduced too upon that response, had even Five laughing—eyes bouncing back and forth as the two continued to get worked up.

“The quiet one’s, I’m telling you.” Klaus repeated. “Never trust the quiet one’s.”

“ _What else_ don’t we know about!”

Klaus’ cackling rung for an hour more as the dirty little pranks all seven of them used to pull, came to light. The noise complaint he received a few days later, went ignored.

It was totally worth it.


	6. Cherish What is Given, The Regret Might Just Eat You Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was home! He didn’t know how he had done it, but he was home! He was—the hand he placed on the brick for support didn’t land, simply going through as he stumbled to right himself. With wide eyes and slack jawed horror, Five brought his arm out of the building it had disappeared into.
> 
> Shaking his head in denial, he touched the brick and watched his hand disappear once again.
> 
> “What the hel—”
> 
> “Five?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Warning that this chapter isn't as light-hearted as the past couple have been, the story is still tagged angst for a reason, but i hope you still enjoy it all the same. Also fair warning that Klaus' over-dose moment, with Five witness to it, is written in this chapter, so if that or the brief mention of seizures triggers you, then please tread lightly. 
> 
> There is multiple time points in here, so i can't exactly tell you just one; you'll have to read it to find out. 
> 
> Without farther ado, i give you chapter 6. Enjoy everyone!

Losing Five had been devastating for all of them, but the day Ben died was the most devastating of all. Five had caused the fragile glass—that was their team, their family—to crack and chip, while Ben was the bull who knocked it over and shattered it completely beyond repair.

Sure, being dead sucked (dying had been painful, the worst kind of pain Ben had ever felt. Blinding in intensity before everything simply stopped and went dark), but the carnage he left behind in his wake sucked more.

Klaus had been the first to know before anyone (even Luther, Allison, Diego, and their father, who Ben had been sure would find what remained of him eventually). Of course, it would be Klaus, his séance brother, that Ben’s essence would gravitate toward. Of course, it would be Klaus, that Ben felt the safest to go to—even in death.

If only he hadn’t looked the way he did when he materialized in the dark corner of his brother’s room—all bloody and freshly _dead_. Maybe then, Ben wouldn’t have had to watch heart-brokenly as Klaus raged and screamed his visceral repudiation (“I should have been there!” “You wouldn’t have been able to help me.” “ _I should have been there_!” “You would have died too, Klaus!” his words went on deaf ears).

Vanya had been the second to know, having stormed into the chaos Klaus’ room had become with her violin case held like a battering ram (and then a shield as Klaus continued to throw things in every which direction). Pogo was third and Mom last as she injected Klaus with something to calm him down before he could hurt them or himself unintentionally.

Klaus didn’t look or speak to him for a whole week after that, choosing to swim in the river that was his denial—no matter how hard Ben tried to get through to him. No matter how sorry he was for breaking his promise; a promise that he would be careful.

A promise, that he would return.

(It was a stupid promise, they both knew that. They all knew the risks their father continuously put them in; knew the risks Ben’s own demons caused him on a regular basis too. But they were kids, kids who didn’t have anyone else but each other. Kids who were forced to do abnormal things because of their own terrifying abnormalities. Kids who were pitied against each other until trust was a thing _earned_ not _given_. It had _always_ been Klaus and Ben against the others though, and for a long while they both thought it would be them against the world too—forever brothers no matter how hard their bonds were tested.)

No one believed him that Ben was truly there. Didn’t believe the break down Klaus had had was because he had seen Ben randomly appear in his room. They still didn’t believe him, even when the proof of Klaus’ forewarning had come through the door in nothing more than a body bag.

The despair on Klaus’ face hurt to see, and Ben wanted to cry—if only he could—and rage at his siblings for being stupid. Seeing the dead was Klaus’ power, and even if it hadn’t (even if Klaus continuously drugged himself up to the gills to make them disappear, to be _numb_ ), why _wouldn’t_ Ben have chosen to haunt Klaus before anyone else? They were best friends, they were _brothers_. It had _always_ been them against the others. Number Four and Number Six, the two children scared of the powers they had been given.

So, why was it so hard to _believe_ that?

With Klaus resolutely ignoring his presence, Ben could do nothing more then follow him from a distance; watching helplessly as Klaus spiraled wholly and wildly out of control.

By the time they stood outside for his memorial—Klaus was higher than the sky, giggling but throwing crude jokes in Ben’s direction. It pissed the others off to no end (“This is our brother’s funeral, and you’re high?!” “Jesus, Klaus.” “Are any of us really all that surprised?”), but at least Klaus was acknowledging him again, and for that he was grateful.

They were the last one’s still standing outside—everyone else having already given their eulogies and goodbyes before heading in. The dusk soon had turned to night and Klaus still had yet to move; the shadows from the lights, creating odd distorted images upon the ground, and on the newly erected Statue that marked Ben’s freshly dug grave.

“Goes to show how much _daddy dearest_ truly cares about us.” Klaus finally muttered with a sarcastic giggle.

Ben snorted and glared up at the statue that was supposed to be made in honor of his image. “It doesn’t even look like me.”

“I don’t know,” Klaus uttered with faux contemplation.

“Klaus!”

“No, you’re right, it’s _terrible_.”

Nothing was ever going to be the same, especially now as he followed Klaus out into the unknown; into a world beyond the mansion doors.

Ben would always carry the regret and guilt of his death even if he couldn’t feel it, but Klaus—Klaus would carry it for the both of them.

(***)

The world was hot, ashy and stifling, even after three months of living in it.

Five’s body was weak as his diaphragm convulsed and dry heaved empty air—his stomach having nothing else left to give, not even fluid acid. His lungs rattled with each labored breath he took, his eyes growing heavier and heavier. He could hear Delores yelling in the background, could hear the concerned octave to her normally honeyed tone, but the words just weren’t registering.

“M just gonna—just gonna lay down for a bit.” He told her; to sooth her.

She continued to scream.

As he flopped sideways—too exhausted to roll away from the rubbish he expelled on the rubble—the world swirled in dizzying patterns and colors around him; barely even noticing the grey fog that began to eat at the edges.

 _Just a quick rest, Delores, I’ll be okay,_ he thought, his mouth no longer cooperating as that heavy feeling pressed down more firmly then before.

Just a small break, and then he could go back to surviving.

His eyes closed to the welcoming darkness that cradled him; feeling a faint pulling at the atoms and molecules of his body—different, but still roughly familiar, to the pulling of time. He spared it no thought, simply basking in the gentle caress of peace that washed over him.

When he opened his eyes next, it was as if he’d been dumped in a tub of ice—only, he couldn’t feel that sensation. Couldn’t feel anything at all! No hunger, no pain, no hot ash filled air.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing but the shock of standing in an alley that wasn’t razed to the ground. He took a faltering step forward, the sudden noise of the city—after three months of silence—deafening to his ears as he watched people and cars move pass the opening.

He was home! He didn’t know how he had done it, but he was home! He was—the hand he placed on the brick for support didn’t land, simply going through as he stumbled to right himself. With wide eyes and slack jawed horror, Five brought his arm out of the building it had disappeared into.

Shaking his head in denial, he touched the brick and watched his hand disappear once again.

“What the hel—”

“Five?”

He whirled around at the twin voices calling his name, eyes going impossibly wider at the sight of Ben before landing on the slumped figure of Klaus.

He opened his mouth to question what was going on, to question why Klaus sounded so weak, or why he was on the ground in the first place; when it happened.

Klaus’ eyes rolled into the back of his head, and before Five knew it, he was convulsing and spasming erratically on the ground; blood tinged foam gathering at his lips.

He could hear Ben yelling, at him or at Klaus, Five didn’t know. All he knew was that he couldn’t move. Couldn’t tear his eyes away from the scene unfolding in front of him. Didn’t hear the keening coming from his own mouth, or feel Ben’s hesitate hand on his shoulder as Klaus suddenly went still; chest no longer rising and falling with air. He stood frozen, numb and cold, as the body of his brother in the alley mingled with that of the body surrounded in ash and debris. Dead. Chocked on his own foaming bile. Dead. His chest broken beyond repair as the soot marred pale white skin. Dead. Dead. Dea—

“Five!”

Ben blocked his view, even going so far as to turn them both away—hands going up to cup his face and keep him from turning back.

“Five, he’s gonna be okay, someone heard the commotion and their going to get him help. I need you to focus on me, just focus on me and the sound of my voice, okay?”

Distantly Five thought it odd that Ben didn’t say ‘breathe with me’ like they used too—when it was Five in Ben’s position—but, in the moment, he didn’t think much on it. He simply stared at his older (god, they weren’t even the _same age_ anymore) brother’s moving lips as he tethered his scattered thoughts back to the present. 

It wasn’t until much later, after Klaus was saved (and had escaped the hospital before the doctors could put him in rehab) that Five learned that he had died in that hell. That Five learned Ben was dead too, and had been for the better part of seven years.

Ben filled him in on all the years that he had missed, with unnecessary side commentary—but no less amusing, despite the mood—from Klaus. Five in turn told them where he had gone, the life he had been forced to live when he couldn’t get back to them, and the date in which it would all go up in flames.

The regret of not being there for his siblings, weighted heavier than the regret of his own prideful foolishness.

(***)

The newest member of the band seemed nice enough in Vanya’s opinion.

She was out-going and quick to help when others needed the hand, and her love of music was clear in the steady, easy melody she added to their symphony. Despite Vanya usually keeping to herself after years of habit (years of her other band mates not wanting to include the _weird_ one, made even weirder after her tell-all book was published), Bree didn’t seem to care. She tried to integrate Vanya into conversations when it was clear she wanted to join them—but was too afraid to try. Paved over any awkward stumbling with friendly smiles and reassurances, and cut off any unfriendly remarks muttered under breaths not always soft enough for Vanya not to hear.

For the first time in a long time, she felt included in something. For the first time in a long time, she felt almost, _happy_. Bree was a friend that Vanya had always wanted, and as the days and weeks continued on, she could see that friendship becoming a reality.

Too bad fate had other ideas.

It was after practice and some of the others had agreed to meet up for a late dinner—and a few drinks—at the bar down the street. Vanya’s violin and music sheets were already packed and ready for her return journey home, when Bree stopped her.

“Aren’t you coming?”

“Oh, I uh—” she cleared her throat, shuffling on her feet and swiping the stray strands of hair back behind her ear. “I didn’t think I was invited.”

“Well, _I’m_ inviting you. Come on.” At her hesitation, Bree smiled warmly and waved her over. “Come on, it’ll be fun! We can even sit at a booth away from the others, if it’ll make you more comfortable.”

With a tentative smile, Vanya nodded her head after a beat of silence stretched between them. “Okay,” and then, a little more strongly. “Yeah, okay.”

“Awesome!” Bree nearly squealed in delight. “Girls night out!”

Vanya chuckled before startling in surprise as Bree linked their arms together to steer her out of the practice the hall.

They had just made it outside where the others where milling around waiting, when Chelsea spotted them—spotted her—and groaned loudly without words or shame.

Vanya deflated and extracted her arm from Bree’s.

“Actually, I just remembered my neighbor is waiting for me at home.” She told Bree lamely. She didn’t meet anyone’s eyes—especially Bree’s own deflated look—as she glanced across the street. “Thank you, but I should really get going. M-maybe another time.”

With that she turned and left, forcing herself to walk normally so they didn’t think she was fleeing like the coward she was. She kept her head down and marched, ignoring the calls for her to come back. She had just stepped off the curb to cross the street when she heard the yell, but by then it was already too light.

Head lights blinded her, a brief over-whelming pain crippled her, and then there was nothing.

When she came back to herself, she was standing in the middle of the road surrounded by police and caution tape. The evening had grown to night and there was a body under a white sheet being loaded into an ambulance. With a sick sort of fascination, Vanya realized that was _her own body_ being loaded into the back of the vehicle.

She was dead. She was dead and yet here she stood in the middle of the street she died on.

She fumbled for pills that were no longer there and fought for air that she no longer needed; over-whelmed by the sights and sounds that surrounded her. The muffled crying had her turning to look, and her stomach plummeted down to her feet as she saw a sniffling Bree talking to one of the other officers.

 _She_ had done that. She had upset _her_.

If only she hadn’t been a coward.

If only she had stayed.

If only she had paid attention to her surroundings instead of fleeing.

If only, If only, If only.

If only, changed nothing.

Vanya, was still dead.

(***)

It was a rare slow night at the diner, the place only seeing one or two customers at a time.

Despite the late hour, Margie was still trudging around to help in Roxie’s absence—despite Klaus telling her he could handle the crowd, or lack thereof. Mitchell was in the kitchen keeping an eye on Lance—the guy was clumsy enough on a good day, better safe than sorry; Mitch had said. It was also a rare night that all three of his siblings came to work with him. Said siblings were currently in the back booth, the farthest away from the door—but still having a clear sight-line too—and were chatting lowly among themselves.

With his customer having been helped; Klaus leaned back against the counter-bar, uncharacteristically silent in thought as he observed his siblings—watching Ben shove at Five, who snarled something back and all the while Vanya shook her head and quietly laughed at them.

He watched them, and realized that the emotion he was beginning to feel as of late, was envy.

He regretted that feeling immediately.

Here he was, with the support he had always dreamed of having, with a life he had worked so damn hard to build for himself, and yet he still couldn’t help but feel envious.

His siblings were here, and yet at the end of the day, they really weren’t (through no fault of anyone, but that still didn’t make it any less true).

He couldn’t hug Vanya or Ben or Five like he desperately wanted too. He couldn’t ruffle Five’s hair to rile the kid up like he knew it would. Couldn’t lean on Ben when the days were too hard for Klaus to struggle through; when the itch under his skin drove him just the wrong side of crazy. He couldn’t receive the affectionate back rubs or hair caresses that Vanya was getting more and more comfortable with giving. Couldn’t be shoved in fond exasperation when he did something stupid.

He wasn’t alone, not truly, but he was alone where it counted the most.

He felt bad for thinking all of this. It’s not like any of them asked to die. They didn’t ask to follow him around for the rest of his days, and yet he desperately wished he could interact with them beyond the sight and sound barrier that was between them.

What good was his powers if that’s all it would ever be?

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Klaus startled and turned sheepishly to a smirking Margie.

“It’s nothing,” he waved it off, putting his mask back up into place for the time being as he deflected. “Think the next customer would want tea? I should probably go and refill that that pot.”

“Klaus,” her voice was soft but no less stern, and Klaus tried desperately not to lean into the gentle touch of her hand on his arm. “I know what I saw in those eyes, a moment ago, was everything but ‘nothing’, mon fils. Now, I won’t pressure you into talking—keep your secrets—but just know, you will always have my ear should you need it.” Her eyes darted to the empty booth she knew his siblings were seated in, not necessarily understanding what happened, but knowing enough if the look on her face told Klaus anything. “Rule number one here in my diner, we treat everyone like family; that now _includes_ you and your siblings, Klaus.” With a smile and a gentle pat to his arm, she released him. “Go clean up, after our gentleman leaves, I’m closing shop.”

He settled back to work after that.

Klaus may have had many regrets in his life—not caring enough back then to stop Five from leaving, not being there on that mission for Ben, not including Vanya more willingly into his life. He regretted a lot. But the knowing—and concerned—look Margie kept throwing at him, reminded him that there was also something to be thankful for in all of this too.

His siblings might be gone physically. He might not ever be able to hug them or rough house with them. There might be days where he’ll hit his lowest, and days, where he’ll piss them off (and vice versa); but they were here. Through the thick and thin of It all, they were choosing to stay resolutely by his side.

They were a family, no matter how odd of a family they were now, and—as his eyes swept over Margie and Mitchell moving to sit with the others at the booth; Ben gesturing for him to join them—he told his envious side just where it could shove it.

He still had regrets. He still had doubts. His envy still fought him back.

But sitting among the family they had made for themselves; Klaus knew they would be okay.

It would have to be enough.


	7. Tomorrow is Not Guaranteed, So Let’s Live for Today Like it’ll be Our Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If Klaus gets arrested, what would we do then?” Ben added, ever the voice of reason.
> 
> Klaus responded to that by un-helpfully making a loud explosion noise, with the added effect of bringing his hands together and blowing them out wide for emphasis.
> 
> “Adult, my ass.” Five muttered darkly at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (((I'm sorry for the wait! I had every intention of writing this chapter but then those promo photo's dropped and i couldn't NOT write something for Klaus and Ben. It's strictly a one-shot speculation piece, but should anyone be interested it's called "Whelp, Now What?" 
> 
> Thank you for your patience everyone. This story has seriously began to run away from me and i can't even be sorry about it. I'm willing to see where this road goes for as long as i possibly can. Hopefully with this chapter being a little longer then i usually do, it will make up for the wait.
> 
> Enjoy guys!)))

In _one year_ , the world will end.

In _one day_ , Klaus’ headache will end _him_ if everyone doesn’t simmer the hell down.

Five was like a caged animal the closer doomsday got, and nothing any of them did could quite placate the little demon. His high-strung energy in turn made the rest of them antsy and antsy-ness lead to fighting, and before Klaus knew it, peace was a rare commodity in his _own damn household_. 

He was _so_ _very tired_.

Klaus understood Five’s anxiety. He truly did. He couldn’t even _begin_ to imagine what the little guy had gone through in those three months in utter hell. The end of the world was a daunting thing to know, even after all these years. Hell, Klaus still couldn’t quite wrap his head around it—or didn’t want to, but that was beside the point. Now, with it looming so close over their heads, it was a foreboding shadow that threatened to smother them all in it’s inky dark depths.

Mitch, who liked to hang around them more and more—the soft ghostly grandpa that he was—didn’t know exactly what was going on between the four of them or why Five was so bent out of shape; but he was a smart man and so too was his wife. They both could see something was bothering them, even if Margie could only see it from Klaus’ perspective.

(The four had agreed, for the best of everyone involved, that they would keep Armageddon to themselves. It was best not to worry anyone should they succeed—or in the event Klaus failed. Let people live their lives blissfully until the very end.)

If something didn’t give soon though, Klaus was gonna lose it.

And him losing it, _would not_ be beneficial for anyone.

(***)

With an audible plop, Klaus dropped into the chair in front of Margie’s desk, and hid his face in his hands.

His headache was going to be the _actual_ death of him and Five would never forgive him—even if it was the little shits fault that he had the damn thing to begin with.

Margie—bless her old soul—didn’t push; simply continued to write up the supply order they needed, in relative silence. She did—bless her again; she was officially his new favorite living person (not to be mistaken for favorite living sibling, but Diego could still suck it)— lightly drop a bottle of Advil in front of him when his wincing, and rubbing of sore temples, didn’t subside.

“Danke,” he muttered appreciatively; dry swallowing four orange tablets.

“Seems to me like you could use a break.” Margie finally spoke after a beat; matching his soft tenor to prevent him anymore needless pain.

Klaus giggled manically despite the sharp agony that exploded in bright fireworks behind his eyes. He let that be answer enough. Margie was scarily good at reading people, sometimes (Klaus knew he could be as unpredictable as his moods, so he couldn’t really fault her). He knew, she would understand the action for what it was.

“Sounds like you need _more_ than a break.” Margie continued sympathetically. “That sounds like you could use a vacation, mon fils.”

“Vacation, who’s that?”

Margie chuckled in response, but the look in her aged, world-weary eyes, held nothing but concern.

He wished he could unload all his problems on her, but he had made that promise with his siblings and he very well intended on keeping it.

It must have come across on his face because she tsked at him and shook her head.

“You should know me better than that by now. I made my own promise to you to never push, only to be there for you to lean on. Keep your secrets, Klaus. I do not need them.”

Oh, he must have said all that out loud then.

“You did.”

Shit.

Damn headache.

With a grunt only an old person could pull off, she stood and ambled her way around to his side; her hand disappearing into his hair to help sooth some of the tension away.

Margie was a very tactile person, much like himself. Sure, Klaus didn’t always appreciate being touched unless he initiated it first, but Margie was the acceptation too the rule. He trusted her. How could he not after all these years of her unwavering, and genuine, kindness to him and his siblings that she never saw? 

Klaus whimpered and leaned into the comforting touch gratefully.

She let the silence stretch, not that Klaus complained any; perfectly content to let her continue to fuss over him and allow the painkillers to do their job.

“You,” she finally started tenderly; tilting his chin up to meet his blood-shot eyes. “ _Need_ a vacation.” She cut him off before he could speak. “I don’t want to hear any excuses out of you, boy. _Take a week_ —I can handle things here; my age hasn’t crippled me yet—but _you_ look like you’ll keel over at the drop of a hat.”

“ _Thanks_ ,” he couldn’t help but utter sarcastically.

She gave him that grandmotherly look of hers and he cowed beneath it.

“Take a week.” She repeated. “You need to get out of this city, Klaus. I don’t care where you or your siblings go, but you can’t stay here. You need a distraction.” She rubbed her thumbs under his eyes, the prominent bags—that were a permanent fixture on his face—looking deeper and darker than healthily acceptable.

“I don’t kno—”

“You can and _you will_. You need this; you know you do. Whatever it is that has you so on edge, can wait a week, yeah?” she gave him a small encouraging grin. “Go—have fun—and return to your problem with fresher eyes.”

(***)

Later that night, with the tension in the apartment lingering after another blow-out fight; Klaus had finally had enough.

He would take Margie’s advice. He would. Even if it killed him—part of him hoped it would, at this point.

“I think we should go somewhere.” His words cut into the silence like a knife.

Vanya took the bait. “Go where? It’s one in the morning.”

He hesitated for just a few brief seconds, knowing this would cause another battle—and so soon after the last. But he needed this _god-damn it_ and Klaus could be extremely petty and selfish when he wanted to be.

“Anywhere really, we could use a vacation.”

As expected, all hell broke loose—all of which were coming directly from the corner of the room Five had sulked off too.

“We don’t _need_ a vacation.” He seethed out. “What we _need_ , Klaus, is to figure out who causes the apocalypse and _put a stop to them_.”

Normally Klaus would have huffed and dropped it, but unfortunately for Five, he had hit Klaus’ breaking point. Margie was right. They needed to temporarily step back from the problem; and the exhausted, run-down circle they’ve been going in, _really_ wasn’t helping the situation for anyone.

“I _almos_ t got caught breaking into the Lab last week.”

“We wouldn’t have gotten caugh—”

“Nah-uh, the adult is talking.” Klaus cut in with a sharp grin, delighting for just a small moment in the affronted, feather-ruffled look Five shot him at the dig. “The eye still hasn’t been made or purchased and I can’t just keep breaking into their building!”

“He’s right, Five.” Vanya spoke softly.

“If Klaus gets arrested, what would we do then?” Ben added, ever the voice of reason.

Klaus responded to that by un-helpfully making a loud explosion noise, with the added effect of bringing his hands together and blowing them out wide for emphasis.

“Adult, my ass.” Five muttered darkly at him.

Klaus rolled his eyes. “ _Hey_ , I—”

“Five, what we’re doing now, _clearly_ isn’t working.” Vanya cut in. “All we seem to be doing, lately, is going in circles and getting nowhere. You know we’re right.”

Klaus shot her a beaming grin and a thumbs up, and she didn’t duck away like she used to do. Her posture was decidedly assertive and the smirk she sent him back was small, but strong.

He was _so damn proud_ of her.

“So, what? At the first sign of any road-block, your option is to just give up? Push it off for a tomorrow problem?”

Klaus shook his head. “No, just,” he paused; his hands out-stretching on either side, and palms faced outward in a non-threatening way. “Taking a break—so we can come back to the problem with fresher eyes.” He quoted Margie.

“I don’t believe this.”

Klaus tittered. “Believe it bud, cause _you_ are out numbered.”

(***)

“I agree that we need this, but are you sure leaving the city is a good idea?” Ben queried a few weeks later, when everything was already planned and squared away.

Klaus gave him a look, before pointing that look in Five’s distracted direction.

“It’s exactly what we—and he—needs, Ben.”

Five may have only been in the apocalypse for three months; but it was three months too long in Klaus’ book. To be alone for that long would be detrimental for an adult, let alone a thirteen-year-old kid—no matter how abnormal their lives were from that of the average household. Klaus didn’t even _want_ to imagine what Five’s life would’ve been like, had he continued to survive there, either.

All of that was depressing enough, but to be surrounded by the shadow of a city you once knew; memories—no matter how good or bad—lost to ash and flame; only to be back and unable to help. That was traumatic all on it’s own.

Klaus wasn’t stupid.

He could see the way some days were worse than others for Five; no matter how hard the little prick tried to hide it. Could see how some days the towering skyscrapers loomed just a little too high and a little too close for comfort. Could see when the _then_ and _now_ fought for dominance in his glazed over eyes—and it had only gotten worse.

So yes, they needed this. _Five_ needed this. The kid needed a change of scenery that wouldn’t remind him of the Armageddon he had lived through.

Klaus didn’t say any of this out loud, but then again, Ben always knew him better then Klaus knew himself.

“We’re going to the beach as soon as we get there.” Ben said instead.

Klaus cackled. “Yeah, yeah, you’ll get your salty sand, Benny-boo. I’ll even make sure to wiggle my toes _extra_ hard in the stuff, for ya.”

(***)

They took the bus down to Washington DC where the four had a field day touring as much of the Smithsonian as they could—avoiding most of the dead things, whenever they could, after being followed by Pharaoh whatever-his-name was.

“Luther would have loved this place.” Klaus said off-handedly as they toured the Air and Space Museum. “I wonder how he’s making out up there.”

“He’s always wanted to go to space; you know that. He’s probably _over the moon_.” Ben replied; the two chuckling at the pun as they followed behind Vanya and Five—Five leading their sister by the hand toward another exhibit that caught his eye.

And if Klaus bought a rocket ship snow globe and a NASA keychain—in the slim chance he might ever bump into Luther again—no one said a word.

(***)

They spend the night at a motel, and Klaus eats at a delicious Belgium waffle place recommend to him by the front desk clerk, the next morning.

They go back to the Smithsonian on Vanya’s insistence, so she could see and enjoy the botanical garden one last time. Klaus couldn’t deny her, nor did he want too—the place truly was a sight to behold. Brightly colored and over all peaceful.

With Ben and Five wandering off to tour the Natural History and Art Museum, it was just the two of them; learning and absorbing as much of the natural beauty to memory as best they could.

Klaus made a silent promise to buy Vanya’s white Orchid a friend when they got home.

By afternoon, they were on a bus that would take them to Ocean City.

(***)

“You know, for someone who supposedly embodies the essence of patience; you’re doing a spectacular job of doing the total opposite.” Five quipped drily at Ben as they neared their motel on 93rd street.

Klaus and Vanya snickered at the affront look on Ben’s face, the two beginning to bicker as Vanya turned to Klaus.

“I take it we’re going to the beach first then?” she asked needlessly.

“I want to see his reaction, so yes.” Klaus sighed good naturedly. “If I don’t, the prick will go without us.”

By the time he was checked in—his bag thrown haphazardly into the room he barely spared a glance at—they were on their way. The sun was low in the sky, and the sand was warm against his calloused feet as he kicked his shoes off and crossed over the small dune. The sound of the crashing waves was soothing as they neared the edge, and Klaus wiggled his toes into the squishy wet surface as promised.

“There, you happy now?” Klaus grinned over at Ben, his smile turning into something softer at the twin expressions of peace he saw on Ben _and_ Five’s face.

Best to leave them be.

With a flourish, he pivoted toward Vanya and her own soft expression as she regarded the two also.

“Walk with me, dear sister of mine.”

They ended up amassing ten more shells to add to Five’s collection back home—even keeping a few for themselves.

(***)

They go mini-golfing and while the activity itself isn’t fun to do alone, it proves to be entertaining when Ben continuously ‘tries’ to get in the way of his shots or successfully distracting him just as he hits the ball. It’s made even more entertaining for his siblings when they place bets to see how good, or bad, he’ll be at each hole.

Klaus bemoans and grumbles at them the whole time, but the smile never leaves his face.

(***)

The sling-shot ride looms in the distance; the screams from it’s passengers mingling with the screams from those riding the rollercoasters.

“You think you’ll be able to stay on it at those speeds.” Five inquires.

None of them quite understand the logistics of being a ghost; how each of them has their own talismans they can interact with (Ben his favorite book, Five a broken dart, and Vanya her violin). How they can sit on objects or ride in vehicles without falling out. How they can interact with each other and the other spirits but never being able to touch anything else in the living world.

Ben is practically vibrating in his excitement as he stares ahead at the behemoth.

“Worth a shot.” Klaus answers for him; his own excitement apparent on his features.

Ben, fortunately, does stay on, and though he can’t feel the wind on his face, or his stomach flipping with the drops; he still has the best time of his afterlife—with Klaus’ high-pitched screams of joy and terror the highlight of it all.

(***)

“You would look absolutely _adorable_ in this hat!” Klaus exclaimed; pivoting with the offending article of clothing in his hands.

Oh, how Klaus _wished_ he could shove the damn thing on Five’s head, especially at the look he received.

“I would not.”

“Yes, you would. I’d prove it too you if I could!”

“Luckily for me, you can’t.” Five stated smugly. “And if you’d tried, I’d have beaten you with it.”

Klaus gasped mockingly. “Such violence! I know I raised you better than that!”

“You didn’t raise me.”

“You’ve been in my care for years now; I’d say that qualifies me as ‘raising’ you.”

“I’m dead, you idiot.” Five deadpanned. “You aren’t raising _anyone_.”

“Eh, Potato, tomato.”

“it’s potato, potahto.”

Ben and Vanya remained silent in the background; highly amused and perfectly content to watch the two continue to bicker back and forth over a stupid sun hut.

(***)

 _We’re going to need more space_ , was all Klaus could think as they hit the souvenir shops on the boardwalk.

Five was now the proud owner of a tiny ship in a bottle, as well as a ship-wheel magnet for the fridge.

Ben had a few new photo frames to hang some of his favorite pictures in—like the one of Diego that Klaus had been able to sneakily capture with the polaroid when their brother wasn’t looking. An octopus magnet—that Ben scowled at but Klaus thought funny to buy anyway—and a frog magnet were also added to his collection.

Vanya got a music box, a treble-clef magnet, and a small, blue plushie elephant that Klaus had managed to win for her at the balloon-dart stand.

“Klaus, come on man—you don’t need any more clothes.”

With a scandalized gasp, Klaus held the pile, he had collected, protectively closer to his chest. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that, Ben!”

“You don’t need them!”

“Not listening!”

He said nothing to anyone as he added the lilac silk scarf or the tiger plushie to his collection—one day hoping to give them to Allison and Claire; should his sister ever allow him to meet his little niece.

“Seriously, where are you going to put all this stuff!?” this came from Five.

“Still not listening!”

And just so his favorite living sibling wouldn’t be left out, he added a Koloa magnet and a hand-crafted pen-knife to his purchase too.

(***)

“Admit it,” Klaus uttered to Five on the second to last early morning of their stay. “This was a good idea.”

They were waiting for the sunrise, the two sitting up on the dunes while Ben and Vanya walked the shoreline—hoping to spot the dolphins breaching the sea, one last time.

Five didn’t say anything, but than again he didn’t really have too. Klaus could see it written all over his face.

“Hey, none of that now.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You think too loudly.” Klaus stated matter of factly. He wished—not for the first time—that he could interact with his siblings. The urge to gently shove Five’s shoulder or ruffle the kid’s hair was strong. “Relax, little man.”

Five shot him a glare and Klaus stuck his tongue out in response.

The silence stretched on, and Klaus thought that would be the end of it. Five surprised him with a near quiet murmur, that had Klaus grinning like a fool when it reached his ears.

“It was a good idea.”

(***)

They returned home refreshed and ready to take on the world.

So, it only figured that unbeknownst to them, one Harold Jenkins had finally lost an eye by pissing off the wrong inmate. Thanks to another convict—who had connections on the outside—Harold would have his new black-market eye ready for when he was released.

Klaus would break into the lab for the last time, two weeks before doomsday, and still find absolutely nothing on the owner of the eye, Five had once held in his possession—none of them aware that illegal work was being conducted by one Lance Biggs.

The four would _continue_ not to know anything.

Not until it was already too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was brought to my attention that Harold was released long before the show actually starts... oopsies, Thank you hujwernoo! 
> 
> For the sake of this story, just pretend he's released like 5 or 6 months before the 8 day count down to hell. The story is marked AU for a reason, so i don't think it's too bad of a change in the grand scheme of things.


	8. A Sixth Sense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He is thirteen, and it’s late at night, when the spike of warning, churns in his gut again.
> 
> Ben tosses and turns and worries, until the moon has set and the sun has risen. He hides his fatigue as best he can behind his studies and training; but he is slower then usual, and now he’s got bruised ribs to show for it as he distracts himself with a book during their meal.
> 
> A meal that is interrupted by Five, before their brother disappears out the front door and doesn’t come back that night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (((Originally, this wasn't even supposed to be a chapter. The next one i have partially written, was supposed to be the chapter, but now it's become a two-shot (with the next being a continuation from the ending of this one). I've had this head canon for Ben for quite a while. My interpretation of how he died and his complicated relationship with the monsters in his stomach. 
> 
> I still don't know how many chapters are left for this story, until moving into the Season 1 AU. But I do promise that even after it's finished, should i think of anything else for this AU world i've built, or should anyone want to see something more in depth, i will create a series that links this story and have those one-shots as separate works within. (unless you guys don't care if they're added to this one after all is said and done). 
> 
> Anyway, without farther ado, I give you chapter 8! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Ben is three when his powers begin to show themselves (memories slightly diluted with time but the _feelings_ of that day still as sharp as ever).

He can remember feeling a pull in his gut, uncomfortable but not necessarily painful—not enough to warrant crying out in fear for someone to rescue and sooth him. He remembers seeing the tentacles slither out from under his shirt; the appendages curious, as they poked and prodded the random objects they came across. He remembers feeling his own curiosity along with _Them_ , as they turned their attention inward toward him.

_Our host._

He can _feel_ them say, even if he can’t exactly hear the words or understand it—oh so very young as he is—but he knows they’re talking about him; much like how he always knew when father was talking about him.

_Ours!_

_Mine!_

_Protect!_

_He’s_ so _small!_

_Must protect!_

Their slithering appendages are still curious; gentle (a feeling that the Ben of now, would _never_ have _ever_ pegged for the violent creatures beyond the portal) in their exploration. The suction-cup, underside, ticklish as they run their tentacles over his arms and face and hair. He, in turn, remembers running his pudgy hands over their skin; the rubbery, slippery and cold feeling of their limbs against his fingertips, a new and exciting experience.

It’s only months later, when his father discovers his manifested power with an intrigued look upon his face, that the feeling—the dread, the _warning_ —truly presents itself for the first time.

It never really goes away after that—father always putting him and _Them_ on edge—but it does get easier to ignore over time.

(***)

Ben is no longer a toddler, when that feeling spikes higher then normal.

He knows what the feeling is now. He knows that _They_ are warning him of something to come—even if neither of them knows what that something is.

Ben is always alert and wary—has to be in this household—but the shift has him even more so during the following days, before it happens.

He is charged with being the lookout, while Klaus rifles through their Mother’s things; pulling out clothes to large for his gangly figure and heels too high for unpracticed feet. With the job done, Ben wanders off toward the library for what little remains of his free time and Klaus goes to his room with his spoils in hand.

Klaus falling down the stairs in those very same heels, and breaking his jaw, is the feeling Ben has been waiting for, all along.

(***)

He is thirteen, and it’s late at night, when the spike of warning, churns in his gut again.

Ben tosses and turns and worries, until the moon has set and the sun has risen. He hides his fatigue as best he can behind his studies and training; but he is slower then usual, and now he’s got bruised ribs to show for it as he distracts himself with a book during their meal.

A meal that is interrupted by Five, before their brother disappears out the front door and doesn’t come back that night. 

Or the next.

Or the next one after that.

(***)

Ben is seventeen, and the dread is far worse than he’s ever felt it before. _They_ make him lose sleep, lose his appetite, and no small amount of his sanity, for three _long_ months. He’s anxious and cranky and _clingy_ with the remaining siblings he has left. This feeling of dread, of _death_ —what else could it possibly be—too strong and pressing to ignore.

Klaus clings to him just as strongly, feeding off of Ben’s anxious energy to the point they are made fun of by the others for their childish behavior.

The siren’s call goes off and they prepare themselves for the fight ahead—some dragging their feet more then others.

Klaus is left behind because their father can find no use for him or a poisoned power, which leaves the four of them as they’re shipped off for another mission. The remaining two see them off, with Klaus worrying at his cuticles and eyes following Ben’s every move until Ben can’t feel his gaze anymore.

For a while, the mission is going pretty well, in Ben’s opinion. The infighting between Diego and Luther is still an ongoing issue, but today they’re keeping it at a minimum. Ben is truly thankful because he doesn’t need a headache on top of the sickening feeling, weighting heavy on his muscles and moral.

Things are going far to well, however. So, when Murphy’s law unfortunately happens, Ben can’t say he’s all that surprised for when it does.

(Deep down, Ben had always known that _They_ would be the end of him. What had once been curious and gentle and protective, had grown angry and volatile and mistrustful of Ben’s growing fear and mistrust of _Them_. Ben _knew_ there had _never_ been a chance for him to control the entities on the other side of that portal—not like how he knew father wanted and expected of him to do—and any attempts at bonding and working together as one entity, had been ruined by many years of that distrust on both sides.)

He’s surrounded, can’t even hear the others fighting their own battles anymore, so he knows for a fact that back up from his siblings, will not be an option he can rely on. _They_ slither and thrash to be released, and he can feel their anger, their thirst to make these men hurt. To show them the error of their ways when they surrounded and threatened _Their_ host. He releases them, being too tired to fight _it,_ and his own instinct to survive and check on his siblings out-weighting the desire to keep them at bay.

All of a sudden people are shouting, but not from pain like Ben expects. More enemies are crowding into the room with weapons, and a loud zip-popping, bang ricochets inside his skull seconds later—a soundtrack that would forever haunt him.

The floor beneath his feet—he realizes too late—is booby-trapped.

This is an ambush.

A set up, all along, in order to get him—and _only_ him—out of their way for good (and should any of the other’s fall in the process, the bad guys wouldn’t complain).

The electricity that rips into his soft tissue, the moment the machine is on, seizes his control; causing him to convulse in on himself.

And for the first time, Ben feels something else from _Them_.

Fear.

Fear for their host, fear for themselves.

They rage and thrash and shriek; fighting for control and pulling him along like a puppet on broken strings.

In the end, the primal instinct—to live, to survive—from _Them_ takes over completely.

 _Their_ will and fight to save _their own life_ , costing Ben his.

(***)

Ben is following Klaus around on the streets, still seventeen but with the mentality of a twenty-four-year-old, and despite being deader than a doornail—the link he shares with _Them_ remains.

It’s weaker than what he would’ve felt if he were alive, but that doesn’t change the fact that his— _Their_ —sixth sense is still very much intact. 

The unknowns of the world that Klaus falls willingly into—the downward spiral—does nothing more than keep Ben and _Them_ on the precipice of wariness and suspense.

 _They’ve_ always liked Klaus (once upon a time, _They_ liked the rest of Ben’s siblings too) but _They’ve_ always viewed Klaus differently. Klaus was someone who was too beaten down and weak to fight for themselves; who needed _Their_ protection too. Klaus was someone who didn’t fear _Them_ —not fully, not like everyone else (Klaus might fear the dead, but he’s never feared _death_ itself _,_ and he fears for Ben’s safety more than he fears them alone).

 _They_ liked Klaus.

And _They_ were just as annoyed at Klaus’ continued lifestyle as Ben was.

So, when that sense of dread, spikes strongly; Ben pleads with Klaus to go to someone—to Diego, to _anyone_ —so he’ll have help from somebody who can be more then just a witness.

His pleas are ignored.

A week later, Klaus OD’s and Five appears in their midst after eleven years of being missing.

(***)

The next time Ben gets the feeling, Klaus must recognize the look on his face for what it is.

Ben doesn’t have to say anything, knows that the look on his face is an expression he always gets whenever _They_ begin to stir in warning.

At this point in time; however, Klaus is wary and tired. The itch for a fix is strong, despite Five, and Ben himself, trying desperately to keep him distracted.

Klaus knows, and he’s apparently having none of it, as he points an accusing finger in Ben’s face.

“No! Don’t you dare! Tell your gut to shup-up, Ben!”

Five is confused; glancing back and forth between the two—who don’t explain anything even after he asks for one.

(***)

Ben’s warning still comes whether they like it or not, and in the form of Klaus’ past finally catching up to him.

Vanya drives Klaus to the hospital after it all; his brother thankfully having the sense to go to someone—even if he should have gone to the emergency room—and their sister, in turn, having the sense to take him there herself.

Klaus is treated for a concussion, a sprained shoulder (dislocating it during the fight, when he swung all of the body weight he possessed, into knocking one of the men flat on his ass), two fractured ribs, and plenty of sluggishly-bleeding abrasions.

He’s lucky his spleen didn’t rupture or that he didn’t suffer from an injury far worse than what he got.

He’s alive, though.

He’ll heal, and that’s what matters.

When Klaus is released, Vanya takes him home to her apartment; where he stays for a total of sixteen days, before leaving sometime late in the night, without a word of goodbye.

(Vanya can’t be too upset; however, when a white orchid and a note with nothing more than a smiley-face signed with the letter K, appear on her kitchen counter. Ben is there, at Klaus’ prompting but mostly of Ben’s own free will, to make sure she sees it; his smile soft as his sister gently runs the pads of her fingers over their velvety petals.)

(***)

Ben is growing complacent in the peace that the three of them have made for themselves.

Klaus still has tough days where the itch is too strong and his temper even stronger because of it, but they’re making it—as best as they possibly can in the situation given to them.

So, it would figure that _They_ would stir and ruin that peace, after two years of being dormant.

“Something’s gonna happen.” Ben feels comfortable to say out loud; knowing his instincts won’t go ignored by the two around him.

Klaus pauses in writing out Five’s equations, head swiveling—along with aforementioned brother—as they regard Ben with varying degrees of alarm.

“You sure?” Klaus asks, giggling nervously as the lame joke—to hide his unease—slips past his lips. “Maybe they ate someone on their side, and you’re just experiencing their indigestion.”

Ben and Five give him unimpressed looks.

“Do you _ever_ _hear_ the words that come out of your mouth?” questions a peeved Five.

Klaus rolls his eyes. “Shut-up.”

(***)

After three days of essentially walking on egg shells, it all comes to a head late one evening.

Ben is using Klaus to turn the pages of his book—Five watching whatever show was put on, in the background—when the quiet of their home is interrupted.

Klaus startles and screams; throwing the book through the figure—that suddenly appeared in the room—on reflex. With the chaos, Ben can’t get a good look at the new arrival as he and Five flank Klaus—prepared to ward off yet another brave soul, desperate to wail and be heard by their brother, who couldn’t always help them.

The ghost still hasn’t looked up yet, mangled arm held protectively against their equally broken chest, as they continue to stare at the book that landed on the floor behind them—seemingly in shock. When they do finally turn to look at them, the bloody road-rash face that greets them has all three freezing.

“No. No, no, no. Nah-uh!” Klaus bemoans in denial; eyes blinking rapidly, as if the image would suddenly disappear if he tried it hard enough.

Ben only wishes that were the case.

“Klaus,” the entity speaks.

“Nope!” Klaus throws his hands up into the air angrily. “Not having this conversation right now!” He moves off toward the kitchen, slamming cabinets open and closed as he grabs a mug, his tin of assorted teas and the CBD gummy bears—all the while still grumbling, “I hate your gut feelings, Ben! _Loathe_ them! All capital letters and exclamation marks and what have you!”

Ben can only stare sadly at their sister as Five slowly approaches her hunched, hyperventilating figure.

Ben _hates_ his gut feelings too.


	9. Mementos and Memorials

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The apocalypse? It’s real, isn’t it?” She directed this at Five, but her eyes were back on Klaus; who was still resolutely ignoring them.
> 
> Or so she thought as the tapping noise finally ceased.
> 
> “Yup!” Klaus prolonged the first syllable and ended it with a loud popping ‘p’; finally swinging his leg inside to face them.
> 
> “And we have over three years left to try and stop it.” reported Five.
> 
> Vanya blinked owlishly. “Well, no pressure or anything.”
> 
> Klaus’ manic, edgy giggling; echoed around the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((((Sorry this took so long, everyone basically wanted to be heard this chapter and I was having a hard time getting their voices across lmao. 
> 
> Again, this is a longer chapter in the hopes you all will forgive me for the wait. 
> 
> Enjoy!)))

_Tap, tap, tap._

Despite the grating nature of the noise, Vanya found it oddly soothing in the lull of conversation that settled around her; the cliff notes version of her night’s events and the awkward reunion, still lingering in the air like a tangible thing. Without the noise to distract her, the silence would have been suffocating, and the looks she kept getting, weren’t helping that claustrophobia at all.

Vanya didn’t need Five or Ben to tell her she had died.

She didn’t need their pity either.

Besides, she _knew_ she was dead; had known that fact long before she had followed the foreign pull in her gut—expecting to find an afterlife only to be led directly to Klaus.

It was kind of hard to ignore one’s own demise, when the proof of it was literally all around you.

Like the boulevard of where it had all happened. The bloody smears that were painted across the asphalt. The broken glass, glittering like stars under street and siren lights alike. The body—her _body_ —being loaded into the back of the emergency vehicle.

If that hadn’t been proof enough, then looking down at her own ghostly image, left no room for farther doubt. Looking like a horror-movie extra, with glass shards sticking out of her skin like a pin cushion. Her gnarly and shredded arm hanging limply by her side. The misshapen state her chest was in. All injuries of which she could feel absolutely nothing.

No pain, just _nothing_.

Then there was the aforementioned teleporting from one place to another that she had _never_ been able to do before.

So, yes, Vanya knew she was dead.

It was a circumstance she would just have to get used too, but if she was being completely honest; it wasn’t really that hard of a pill to accept and swallow.

_Tap, tap, tap._

The _hardest_ pill to swallow; however, was the guilt of knowing Klaus had been telling them the truth all along. She had written him, and his words, off as the insane rambles of a drug addict—like everyone else in their family had done.

Then again, Vanya would be _lying,_ if she said she’d never wondered about the possible reality of any of it being true—no matter how fleeting the thought had been.

She can still remember the night Ben had died quite vividly. Recalled the heart-stopping, shrill scream that had come from Klaus’ room as he broke down, raging and sobbing, at someone in the corner no one else could see.

She had believed him, back then. Believed that the entity he was spitting near incoherent words at, had truly been their brother. It had made sense. Klaus could see ghosts, and Ben and Klaus had always been the closest—much like her and Five—so it hadn’t been too far out of the realm of possibility that Ben would go to him.

She had believed it, at least she _had,_ until Pogo and Mom had muttered something about adverse side effects to the drugs—drugs that could be seen lying around in the shambles Klaus’ room had become—and that had been the end of that belief for Vanya.

She regretted that now, but in her defense, Klaus had never made it easy for any of them to take seriously.

Klaus couldn’t see ghosts when he was high. That was just a simple fact of life—like the grass being green and the sky being blue. Hell, it was a fact that Klaus, himself, had unintentionally revealed to _all of them_ ; when they were thirteen and still seven children strong. The mixed cocktail of alcohol and weed in a system far too young and unused to the effects; had been the downfall of Klaus’ filter— who had giggled, unperturbed and unapologetic, when they found him hidden in the bathroom.

They _all_ had written him off, even back then; barely giving Klaus the chance to explain his reasons as to _why_.

Just another notch in the regret department that was Vanya’s whole night, it seemed.

_Tap, tap, tap._

Her eyes finally settled on the source of the noise; shooting another apologetic look while she was at it, but Klaus wasn’t looking at her—wasn’t looking at any of them for that matter.

His side profile was all they could see as he straddled the window sill; half in and half out of the apartment. His gaze trained somewhere outside as he alternated between biting the cuticles of his one hand and taking long drags from the cigarette in his other; the smoke billing in the wind and carrying across the late city skyline. The metallic tap-tap-tapping of his foot on the fire escape continued to ring in the air—the sound made louder on purpose when Five finally snapped and told him to stop.

Ben had told her this was normal behavior. That, while he wasn’t hysterical like he had been the first time, it was just one of those things Klaus had to work through on his own.

She couldn’t say she really blamed him. To have half the siblings you grew up with suddenly dead, and haunting your every move, would have messed her up too.

It’s a wonder he hadn’t jumped off the deep end yet (not at all aware that Klaus had been relatively sober for a while now).

Seeing that Klaus was nowhere near ready to rejoin them after her short story; she turned her attention on Five, sitting on the couch next to her, and then toward Ben, sitting on the coffee table in front of them both. Ben was the only one not totally lost in thought it would seem; his eyes meeting hers and giving her the barest hint of a smile, to which she returned before it quickly fell.

There was something else that bothered her.

_Tap, tap, tap._

Ben and Five’s natural-looking appearances, confused her the more she looked at them.

She distantly remembered some of the words Klaus had yelled that night; raging and tossing his belongings at that seemingly empty corner with tears in his eyes. While “You’re not _real_!” “This isn’t happening!” and “You _promised!_ ” happened to be the most heartbreaking to hear in the jumbled mess, it was the “You’re getting blood all over my floor!” that had been the most puzzling.

Not anymore, not with her own ghostly ectoplasmic blood, dripping as if she still had a beating heart to pump it.

Which was exactly her point. _Neither_ of them looked like the death she had expected—which was a blessing now that she thought about it.

Ben didn’t look almost torn in half at all—no exposed ligaments and sinew barely holding him together—like Diego had uncomfortably revealed at the funeral; angry and failing to hide his anguish, as he had yelled at Klaus’ inappropriate behavior. Ben also wasn’t in the uniform he had died in, nor did he look forever stuck at seventeen.

Five, showed mostly the same thing—un-marred skin and the uniform, he’d disappeared in, nowhere in sight. The only difference was, Five still looked the same as she remembered him. He didn’t look any older than the day he left—which only served to confuse her more.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d almost say they looked _normal_.

“Give it time.” Ben broke the silence and snapped her out of her head; his knowing dark eyes meeting hers again.

“Ben,” she sighed, feeling as though they were going in circles at this point. “I know I’m dead, I don’t need tim—”

“I’m not talking about that.” He cut her off gently; knowing expression still firmly in place.

“Oh.” Then. _“Oh.”_ She should have known Ben would figure out her train of thought—she _had_ been staring at them both for who knows how long, now. “What does time have to do with it? _How_ are you doing it?”

Does it erase the physical reminder of a ghost’s death over time? Was Klaus constantly using his power to keep them like this; to make them look more human then she herself felt at this very moment?

“It takes a lot of energy and practice, but it’s possible.” Ben revealed. “You don’t have to stay like that unless you want too.” The implied—we can help you—wasn’t said aloud, but it was there and appreciated.

“Is this—” she gestured to both of them. “—is this Klaus’ doing?”

“His energy is the strongest source for us to feed off of, which helps.” Five answered. “But no, this—” Five’s image flickered briefly; lean, healthy frame turning almost skeletal before it was back to normal in the next blink. “—isn’t part of his power, it’s just something ghosts can naturally do _; apparently_.”

Five began to rattle off the confusing, irritating logistics, and limits, of ghost life he’s observed and tested so far; while Vanya turned sad eyes to Ben. What little she had seen of their kid brother’s true visage; striking something deep and guttural in her soul.

_Tap, tap, tap._

So, Klaus had been telling the truth about Five’s trip to the future as well.

Which could only mean—

“The apocalypse? It’s real, isn’t it?” She directed this at Five, but her eyes were back on Klaus; who was still resolutely ignoring them.

Or so she thought as the tapping noise finally ceased.

“Yup!” Klaus prolonged the first syllable and ended it with a loud popping ‘p’; finally swinging his leg inside to face them.

“And we have over three years left to try and stop it.” reported Five.

Vanya blinked owlishly. “Well, no pressure or anything.”

Klaus’ manic, edgy giggling; echoed around the room.

(***)

It must have been early in the morning, when Ben finally left his spot on the coffee table; allowing Vanya and Five to catch up and chat among themselves as the tugging sensation in his soul, guided him toward the roof.

The discussion of who or what could cause the end of everything, had taken them all night to go through—Five’s plausible theories, a never ending well of possibilities as they caught Vanya up to speed. It was a lot to take in, and he sympathized with the overwhelmed look and feeling she’d gone through during the conversation. He and Klaus had pretty much felt the same when they had first learned of it, too.

Part way through the conversation though, Klaus had left; having finally had enough with everything and needing the space to process in peace. But that was over thirty minutes ago, and while Ben trusted him more than he had two years prior; it was best not to leave Klaus to his demons for long.

The sun was just peaking over the shortest building on the horizon as he materialized beside Klaus, and sat down next to him on the edge of the roof’s access stairwell.

“You’re gonna go through your whole pack at this rate.”

“Shut your face, Ben.”

There was no bite to his words; just the two of them bickering as they always have.

Noting the tell-tale signs, he had been worried about; Ben filled the silence as best he could. Retelling past memories, he was fond of, that would act to distract his brother from the itch under his skin.

When one such retelling led to Klaus’ hilarious misfortune; Klaus squawked. “ _Hey_ , you’ve had some pretty _wonderful_ blunders there too Ben! I distinctly remember a certain _convenience store_.”

“Klaus, no! We had a deal.” Ben groaned.

“Klaus, yes!” Klaus cackled much to Ben’s chagrin. “Come on Benny-boo, that one was funny!”

“Getting banned from a 7-11 for starting a fight _and_ breaking their soda fountain, was _not_ funny.” Ben huffed out. “I still blame you, one-hundred percent, for that incident, by the way.”

Klaus rolled his eyes and flapped a hand in Ben’s face. “We still on about that? I told you that biker was having a _really_ bad day. I had absolutely _nothing_ to do with it.”

“All for a damn _candy bar_ , Klaus.” Ben continued with a snort.

“You have no proof!”

It was Ben’s turn to show his exasperation, but the calmer look on Klaus’ exhausted face, made it all worth it. The face splitting yawn that followed soon after, seemed to highlight just how dog-tired Klaus really looked.

“You should try and get some sleep.”

“Too wired.”

“At least call someone to fill in for your shift tonight.” Ben implored. “Margie will understand.”

Klaus was just about to reply, when the sound of his name had both of them glancing down at Vanya and Five.

“Yes, sister dear?” he drawled; still not quite meeting her gaze.

Ben tried not to sigh at that; knowing Klaus would get used to it in his own time. Vanya’s hesitation over whatever she seemed to want; however, had Ben growing curious. Fortunately, it was Five who impatiently answered Klaus on her behalf.

“She wants you to go get some things from her place.”

“Five!”

“What? That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Vanya shuffled, looking nervous and uncertain as she glanced up at Klaus. “You don’t have to, I just thought—” she trailed off.

Klaus was always filling their home up with useless trinkets for him and Five; so, it wouldn’t exactly be fair if they didn’t afford Vanya that same courtesy, now would it? Ben was just about to voice this, and encourage Klaus to agree; but Klaus opened his mouth before Ben could even try.

“Guess we’re going on a field trip!”

“ _After_ you call Margie.” Ben couldn’t help but add with a grin.

“ _Yes, mom_.”

(***)

The spare key—Vanya promised would be hidden behind the fire extinguisher—was not at all where it was supposed to be, much to her complete and utter panic.

“Who hides their keys where someone can easily find them?” Klaus muttered a little too loudly.

But Vanya didn’t dignify that with a reply. Too panicked to care as she phased through the door of her place, with Five and Ben right behind her, to see if anything was amiss.

“You see anything?” Ben questioned her after a quick walkthrough.

“No,” She shook her head. “No, everything appears to be where I left it.”

Even if it hadn’t, it didn’t matter anymore. The noteworthy thing that mattered most, was that all the important stuff that she wanted Klaus to take home with him; was still where she had left them.

Now, all she had to do, was figure out how Klaus could get inside without alerting her neighbors or the local authorities. Or if it was even worth the trouble to get him to try.

“Oh, thank god,” She muttered to herself as she inspected her front windows on a whim. “I did leave them unlocked.”

It wasn’t often that she did. Only on the rare occasion, did she ever forget to lock them back up. Thankfully, this was the case now or she’d just tell Klaus to forget the whole mess entirely. 

With one last quick look around, she moved back into the hall where Klaus was waiting; not seeing the incredulous expressions Ben and Five sent each other, behind her back.

“Seriously?” Ben chocked out before she could share her news, causing Klaus to stand up straighter in alarm at his tone.

“What? What happened?”

He was ignored as Five demanded from her. “Did you leave them unlocked, often?”

Startled and feeling a bit cornered; Vanya shrugged and countered a little defensively. “I live—lived—on the second floor.”

“Rapists can climb!”

Seeming to catch onto the conversation now, Klaus tsked and added. “So can burglars… which I’m now gonna have to do, I take it.” he muttered that last part to Ben, who nodded.

“See!” Five pointed at Klaus as if their brother was example enough. “It’s bad enough you left a spare key where someone could easily find it.”

“Which, someone did.” Klaus pipped in unhelpfully.

Five pointed at Klaus again. “Now, I learn you _normally_ leave your windows unlocked.”

“There’s no fire escape for those windows! Who in their right mind would climb a store front, just to get into my place?” Vanya exclaimed at their protectiveness. She would have been touched by it, if she weren’t so offended by them questioning her intelligence (it’s not like she actually left them unlocked, _all the time_ ).

“Still wouldn’t stop a burglar, we like challenges.” Klaus state unhelpfully once again.

Ben snorted and corrected. “ _You_ , like challenges.”

“Same difference.”

“It’s really not.”

Five didn’t say another word, simply continued to scowl at her as she deflated with a sigh.

“I thought we were here to get Vanya’s things?”

Vanya nearly smiled her thanks at Ben for coming to her rescue.

Until he continued. “Not question our sister’s poor life choices.”

“Ben!”

Ben gave her a pointed look in response and she shrunk back even more in defeat; Klaus’ snickering filling up the narrow hall.

_Assholes._

(***)

They went back later with the cover of night, where Klaus proved, once again, how competent he could be—you don’t survive as long as Klaus had on the streets without picking up a few tricks.

Five had only seen a small taste of it from all those times they broke into the lab, but Ben was used to this. He never condoned Klaus’ way of life, but even he had to admit that Klaus was resourceful when he wanted to be.

Poor Vanya on the other hand, just looked ready to keel over as they watched their lanky brother scale down the building from the rooftop like it was nothing.

“Not one word, Five.” Five sent him a withering glare, his jaw working in agitation. “We’re here to get our sister’s things, remember?”

He didn’t give Five the chance to retort; simply disappearing and reappearing in the apartment to wait with Klaus.

(***)

“It this everything?” Klaus asked as gently as he could, eyeing the meager trinkets Vanya wanted to keep.

Ben couldn’t blame him for asking.

Vanya’s apartment was already bare enough as it was—a place to live, but not necessarily a place to call _home_. The old, gray room was just a sad reflection of a life Vanya had lived. The barely filled cardboard box of her things, was even sadder to behold. Just a few favorite books, with Ben and Five taking a few others for themselves. The small folder with her original sheets of music (they shouldn’t be surprised as they are to learn that their sister wrote her own music. They _really_ _shouldn’t_ ). Her white orchid, that was still growing and thriving—it even had a bigger pot—was the last to be placed for relocation.

All of it was depressing.

“No, actually, there’s one more thing.” Vanya stated as she led them to her room and pointed up at the slightly cluttered shelf of her closet. “There should be a shoebox up there.”

“What’s in it?”

Vanya blushed. “Don’t worry about it.”

Klaus hesitated with his arms out stretched toward the closet, as all three brothers gave her varying degrees of horrified looks.

“Ew, no! Nothing like that!” She exclaimed in her own horror; blush deepening. “It’s just stuff I don’t you looking at.”

Klaus waggled his eyebrows.

“It’s not like that!” Vanya asserted. “I think I’m allowed my privacy, Klaus.”

“Whatever you say, Van.”

Ben watched curiously as Klaus began to pull boxes and folded cloths off the high shelf in search of the requested item of questionable use. Vanya’s warning came to late as Klaus pulled another container down, not knowing the shoebox was on top of it as is fell, and spilled it’s contents all over the floor.

Well, so much for privacy.

“Way to go, Klaus.”

“I’m alright, Five, thanks for asking!”

“Are you okay, Klaus?” Vanya genuinely asked as Five scoffed at her.

“Oh, don’t encourage it, nothing even hit him!”

“It grazed my shoulder!”

“Wimp.”

“Prick.”

Ben wasn’t really paying them much attention, his eyes on the spilled contents of what looked to be a keepsake box. There wasn’t much, but there was enough to tell Ben that Vanya was sentimental in a way her apartment couldn’t.

There was only one photo—post leaving the academy if Ben had to guess—as well as article and magazine cut outs, odd knick-knacks, and random ticket stubs, collected over the years.

“Hey! I remember going here!” Klaus exclaimed as he bent to start picking everything up; his hand settling on the circus ticket.

“I don’t.” Five stated.

Vanya gave him a forlorn look. “You had already left.”

Ben can remember that day just as clearly as Klaus and Vanya. They were fourteen at the time, and Luther had been the one who had wanted to go. Then Allison had agreed and demanded they _all_ go and the rest was history. It was the last ‘family’ trip they had snuck out on as a group—one member down, but still together none-the-less.

It had been a fun night.

“Klaus, that’s not everything. It’s still missing something.” Vanya’s voice broke Ben from his thoughts and the four turned to try and find the missing keepsake.

Ben spotted it first, his eyes catching on something half hidden under the bed and froze. It was nothing more than a star-shaped, rainbow slinky with a purple bouncy ball, wedged into the center—to keep the items together, he presumed. They were miniscule to an outsider, silly toy for an adult to keep, but Ben knew better. He recognized them quite clearly.

She had _kept_ them.

They’d been nothing more than useless prizes, that Ben had won at the circus. He’d only given them to Vanya because he knew none of the others would want them (Klaus would have, but Ben knew Klaus well enough to know, he’d find ways to annoy him with it). Ben’s trash had unexpectedly become Vanya’s treasure—sentimental enough to keep them for so long—and it struck that fissure in his soul a little deeper.

He and Five may have included her in more activities then any of the others growing up; but even he was just as guilty of distancing himself from her after Five left. Seeing these mementos made that guilt worsen.

He couldn’t make it up to her in life, but Ben would be _damned_ if he didn’t try and make it up to her in death.

(***)

Five was the one who eavesdropped on the manor to figure out when the funeral would take place. It was set for Saturday, which was in two days and Vanya was on the fence about it.

“You don’t have to go Vanya. None of us do, if that’s what you want.”

She shrugged helplessly at Ben. “Wouldn’t the others be mad if Klaus doesn’t show?”

“Psh, who cares! They’ll probably think I’m getting high in some alley.” Klaus waved it off, the look in his eyes going unnoticed as he focused back on his nails, with forced enthusiasm. “I’m thinking pink today. Oh! Or maybe periwinkle! What do you think, Five?” he held up the colors imploringly.

Five rolled his eyes but humored him none-the-less. “How about yellow?” as Klaus cooed excitedly and dug around in his box for the color; Five turned to Vanya. “Ben’s right. _Technically_ you are still here, going to your own funeral wouldn’t really accomplish anything.”

“You’re probably right.” Vanya uttered quietly. “I doubt the others will even show, after what I did.”

“They’ll show up.” Ben reassured. “You’re our sister, Vanya. A book won’t change that.”

“It would be nice to see them if they did come.”

“ _Would_ it be nice, though?” Five implored. “When you wouldn’t be able to talk to any of them?” At her deflated posture; Five spoke as softly as he could make himself. “If you’re trying to get us to make this decision for you, then stop. You need to decide this on your own.”

She made her decision, the night before the funeral.

(***)

Despite the verdict to return home, none of them really wanted to deal with Reginald—Klaus more so, since he’d get the brunt of all the attention.

So, as Klaus recommended, they arrived right in the nick of time; a stunned Pogo greeting him at the door before ushering him inside.

(He would have aimed for fashionably late, but that would have defeated the purpose, and made things worse.)

“I didn’t think you’d heard, but I’m glad you’re here, Master Klaus.”

“Yeah, well, thank god for newspapers, am I right?”

Pogo hummed, his sharp eyes studying him and making Klaus itch like it always did; his silent siblings squirming and tensing around him.

“Indeed. You are just in time, Master Klaus. We’re getting ready for the memorial in a few moments. Why don’t you go down and wait in the kitchen, with the others until then?”

The route to the kitchen didn’t take long, and Klaus lit up at the sight of Diego and Allison, seated with mugs in their hand and the familiar clatter of Mom bustling around to bake—cookies by the smell of it.

“Klaus!” Allison exclaimed at the sight of him; mug forgotten as she stood to offer him a hug. “I’m surprised you made it.”

“Of course, I made it.” the _why wouldn’t I?_ goes unsaid as Klaus accepted the hug, whole-heartedly; even if it was a little awkward on both their parts. “And look at _you_! I _like_ the new hairdo, sis. Going blonde, I see?” he stated after leaning back to get a good look at her.

“It’s for a new role.”

“Well, I _love_ it.” his eyes landed on Diego next and his grin widened. “And there’s my _favorite_ brother!”

He ignored the huffs from Ben and Five as he sauntered over, not at all deterred by Diego’s hand coming up to stop him.

“Don’t touch me.”

Klaus hugged him anyway.

“Where’s our intrepid number one?” Klaus asked as he looked around for Luther; not at all bothered as he was shoved off.

“You didn’t hear?” Allison stated bitterly. “No, you wouldn’t know, would you?” she said this more to herself.

“What? What happened to Luther?”

If he was told, that another one of their siblings was dead; Klaus was going to throw hands and lose it.

“Luther was sent to the moon, several months ago.” The answer came from Diego as he scoffed and twirled his knife in hand.

“He didn’t tell anyone?” Klaus blinked owlishly at them both, before looking at Allison in shock. “He didn’t tell _you?”_

“Oh, no, I knew he left; he called me before he did.” Allison corrected, her scowl darkening. “Dad decided not to tell Luther about Vanya.”

“What?” four voices exclaimed at once, though only Klaus’ was heard.

“Are you serious?” Ben hissed out in anger.

Five snorted. “That’s _definitely_ not going to go over well when he returns.”

“Why wouldn’t he be told about our sister? She’s his sister too.” Klaus implored; his own anger waring with the disbelieving sadness as he spoke to everyone at large.

“It would distract him from his _mission_.” Diego grumped out in the worst impression of dad that Klaus has ever heard.

“Yeah, because a _mission_ is more important than _our_ _sister_?” came Ben’s incredulity once more.

“It’s okay, Ben,” Vanya tried to sooth. “I’m used to th—”

“It’s not okay, Vanya, and you know it.” Five chimed in.

Pogo’s arrival cut off any farther conversation between the two groups, and signaled the start of the memorial service.

(***)

“What is _that_!?” Vanya exclaimed; slack jawed in horror at the effigy standing before her.

Ben laughed with unabashed glee. “Join the club. I hate mine too.”

“It doesn’t even look like me!”

“I know, right?”

Five snorted. “And here I was _almost_ feeling offended I got a painting instead.” He grinned sharply and continued. “ _Almost._ ”

“Shut up.” Ben swatted at him.

Klaus tried desperately to keep the giggles in check, he really and truly did try, but his siblings weren’t helping and one burst forth before he could cover it with a hand. Thankfully, daddy dearest didn’t hear it.

Diego did.

“uh-oh.” Five exhaled. “Not good.”

Klaus sighed. Not good at all.

“What’s so funny?” Diego leaned over to murmur out; eyeing him up and down suspiciously. “Don’t tell me you’re high, _again_?”

“No, I’m not.” Klaus hissed back, not as quietly, but still quiet enough not to draw attention to their corner. He leaned more in Diego’s space, so his brother could see is eyes. “Look for yourself, Dee.”

“Then what’s so funny?” he was still suspicious; eyes narrowed and lips turned down in a frown.

“Ya know, your face’ll be stuck like that if you keep it up, Mr. Grumpykins.” He deflected.

Allison finally turned to them with a glare. “You two seriously doing this right now? At our sister’s funeral?”

“I’m not doing anything!”

“You laughed, Klaus. At a _funeral_.” Diego groused. “If you say you laughed because of something Ben said or Five or—or so help you, Klaus, I’m not in the mood for this—Vanya; I’m gonna put this knife in your foot.”

“Aw,” Klaus’ grin was all teeth. “Love you too, bro.” they were still staring at him, and Reggie and Pogo were beginning to eye their little cluster as Pogo said his eulogy next. Not wishing to draw there attention anymore then they have; Klaus went with a half-truth. “I was only laughing at the statue. I mean, come on, it looks _nothing_ like her. _Ben’s_ doesn’t even look like him.”

“There is a time and place for everything, Klaus.” Allison sighed and turned away with Diego; the conversation finished in their book. “ _A time and place_.”

Klaus snorted, but stayed quiet.

There was _never_ a time and place where he was concerned. No one ever listened to him anyway, even when they _did_ make time.

Funny how it took half of them dying, before anyone started to take him seriously.

“I still hate that statue…”

Klaus snorted again.


	10. To Find Love in a Hopeless Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Okay?” Klaus blinked owlishly. “Really?”
> 
> Dave chuckled. “Really.”
> 
> “huh,” Klaus didn’t know what else to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((((Not really inspired by the song, i just somewhat used the song lyrics for the title.
> 
> Anyway, i feel bad that I've been laying the angst thick lately, so please, have some shameless Dave and Klaus fluff (since i kinda tagged the ship and have only used Dave in passing... i needed to rectify that.)
> 
> Enjoy!))))

“I’m Dave.”

“Klaus.”

(***)

“You got cotton in your ears boy!? I said _move_!”

Klaus was exhausted.

Between trying to stop the end of the world, getting kidnapped from his old home, being tortured for knowing _too much_ —apparently—and then falling head first in the middle of a war—with a briefcase he was too scared to use again; least he end up somewhere far worse—Klaus was _beyond_ exhausted.

He was absolutely, positively _, resolutely_ , _done._

_With. Everything._

The bus seat wasn’t the most comfortable he’s sat on, but he highly doubted he could move his legs either. Hell, he can _feel_ one of this many wounds still sluggishly bleeding underneath the scratchy shirt he had found in the chaos and threw on.

“You might wanna listen to him, kid.” Commented one of the ghosts; not quite realizing yet that Klaus could see and hear them.

But the dead soldier was right.

With a grunt of effort, he shifted before the man in charge of the unit could yell at him again. A sudden hand appeared in front of his face and he traveled that hand and arm up to the politely concerned face of the man who’d introduced himself as Dave, earlier.

“Don’t mind Chuck.” He told him with a gentle smile as he pulled Klaus up to his feet. “He’s a hard-ass but he means well.”

Klaus chuckled as he accepted the help gratefully; uttering out a quiet thanks. Didn’t hurt that it was coming from a handsome face, either.

“Continue to move that slow, boy, and you’ll be dead before the end of the week.” Chuck deadpanned disapprovingly when they finally joined the others. Klaus barely caught the bag and backpack that was tossed in his direction; nearly dropping the briefcase in the fumble. “Let’s go ladies! We’re moving!”

 _Great_ , more walking.

He should have slept on the bus.

As the others strapped on more gear and supplies; Klaus winced as the heavy canvas bag settled roughly on his back; his ribs—and what felt like a million other things—screaming in protest.

If he wasn’t careful, his body was going to riot.

He was inclined to riot with it.

But he needed to blend in as if he’d always been here; and pulling his weight and keeping his mouth shut was his best option. He was just about to bend and pick up the bag he dropped; when Dave stooped down to pick it up instead—shooting another one of those concerned looks in his direction at the wince he saw when Klaus straighten back up.

“Best to get you looked at when we get settled.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“You’re bleeding.” Dave told him gently. “You were bleeding back at the old camp too.”

Klaus _really_ had been hoping that the chaos and bombs, had distracted everyone from his sudden appearance, and the sorry state he had been in.

They would certainly question him once they caught sight of his wounds.

Well, _shit._

(***)

Klaus ignored the, not so quiet, snickers from a few of the younger soldiers that passed by as he struggled with the machinery in his hand. It’s not like he had never handled a gun before; gun safety and how to disarm someone had been drilled into his head along with his damn ABC’s, but these were not the hand guns he was used too.

“You’ll get the hang of it eventually. I struggled for a few weeks, myself.”

With a sigh, he dropped the rifle on the fold out table and glanced up at the ghost in front of him. Scott had been a young kid, too young in Klaus’ book, but he was friendly enough; along with the other four soldiers he didn’t mind surrounding himself with—not completely anyway; he doubted he would ever grow fully comfortable with a ghost that wasn’t his siblings.

(They weren’t wailing and crying like the ones on the outskirts of his vision either; or demanding help and attention that Klaus couldn’t give; so that was a bonus.)

“Mind going over the steps, again?” he muttered lowly; eyes shifting around the camp. He had never been one to hold back or to be subtle about the dead around him; but here he didn’t feel comfortable with drawing that attention to himself.

Gotta blend in.

Gotta act like the lie he’d spun to the superiors. Just one lucky SOB who managed to escape captivity and certain death from the enemy side.

“We did Sunshine, repeatedly.” Denise stated. “You’re just going too slow.”

“And you’re going to fast!” He hissed back.

“Need any help?”

Klaus startled damn near out of his skin; glaring as the five ghosts around him chuckled.

Traitors.

He turned to find Dave hovering just behind him; a sheepish grin on his face.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” He gestured to the card chair next to him. “You mind if I sit?”

Klaus shook his head, and so Dave sat. “What can I do for you Dave-a-roo?”

Dave grinned bemusedly at the nickname, but answered anyway, “More like what _I_ can do for _you_.” Placing his issued rifle up on the table; he swiped a clean rag off the surface and gestured for Klaus to pick up his own. “Here, this is how you unassembled it.”

(***)

Klaus thankfully wasn’t part of the scouting party this time around; as he dropped down around the ring of men between Dave and John. The sun was blistering and the humidity had his clothes sticking to every surface of his body, but Klaus was going to enjoy this rare moment of peace, damn it—even if it killed him.

“Unreal man,” Michael griped as Klaus caught the tail end of Jack’s story.

James huffed as he came to his brother’s defense. “It was _out of_ _sight_! I’d never seen such a fine piece of machinery,”

“Or a finer woman.” Jack added.

“Guess you had to be there, huh?” Will stated as Michael waved them all off. “I can’t wait to get back home to _my baby_. Dad promised to help me get her back out on the road.”

“What about you, Hargreeves? What do you miss about home?” Randy asked.

“Where ya from, anyway?” Jack cut in after.

The first question wasn’t all that hard to answer. “My Apartment, and my siblings.” since he couldn’t exactly remember if Canada ever fought in Vietnam; he went with a safer answer for the second. “I’m from New York.”

“How many siblings?”

Klaus over-dramatically exhaled as he uttered, “I’m one of seven.”

Whistles of sympathy went around the circle; save for a few—one of them being Michael as he scoffed.

“I hear ya; I’m one of ten myself. Mornings were never fun in our house.”

Klaus wished he could understand sympathize with his sentiment; but he couldn’t. So, he joined the rest as they laughed, and the topic shifted thankfully away from him as Will hounded Michael for stories.

“I have a large family too.” Dave leaned over; trying to be heard over the exuberant story-telling happening around them. “I always thought my older sister was the worst.” He chuckled. “Turns out my younger brother stole that mantel.”

“Oh?” Klaus leaned in slightly too. “Do tell.”

And Dave did; with Klaus raptly listening to his every word.

(***)

Back home, Ben had gotten pretty good with distracting him—or maybe it was simply Klaus was more willing to listen to him now. When the days would get too hard, when the urges got too strong; his siblings were always there to help as best they could. Klaus couldn’t remember when it all really started, but one night, Ben had suggested stargazing; and funnily enough, it became a once a week ritual for the four of them. With an astronomy book in hand, they would go up to the roof and try and locate a new constellation—though the light pollution made it difficult to find much, most weeks.

It was a distraction. I very _nice_ distraction.

But out here, his siblings weren’t with him. He didn’t have their banter or support to rely on. The stars, though—the stars he did have, and boy were they a sight to behold. Out here, under the suffocating foreign foliage, the stars shined brighter than he’d ever thought possible—pictures could never _dream_ of amounting to the real thing. They sparkled and twinkled like millions of little night lights that put his own fairy lights to shame. And as he expected, they were different on this side of the hemisphere.

Not knowing any of them, didn’t matter in the long run; tracing the foreign constellations with his eyes, was enough of a mind number to keep his thoughts away from the drugs so easily within his reach. He had to stay strong.

_He had too._

War was tough enough, add high off his ass, and Klaus was as good as dead out here and he couldn’t do that to his siblings. He needed to get _home_. He needed to _suck it up_ and figure out how that damn briefcase worked. Needed to take the leap of faith and hope it landed him in the right time.

“Don’t be alarmed. Dave is coming your way.” Scott told him as the kid shared a knowing look with Denise.

A look that went unnoticed by Klaus.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?”

Klaus turned his head calmly to look up at the new arrival; returning the smile he saw shining on Dave’s face. The stars weren’t the only beautiful sight to behold—that smile could outshine them all.

“Yeah,”

Dave took a seat next to him on the log and propped his gun up beside him for easy reach.

“Know any of them?” he gestured to the sky at large.

Klaus shook his head. “Just the ones back home.”

“Home.” Dave uttered with melancholy longing. “My pop and I, we used to do this sort of thing every summer. We’d spend a day fishing out on the lake and camp out under the stars.”

“That sounds nice.”

“What about you?”

“Oh,” Klaus glanced away. “We never… really did things like that as kids. It’s more a recent hobby.” He shrugged.

“I imagine you can’t see very much in the city.”

“No,” Klaus agreed with a small chuckle. “Not like this.”

“Do you have a favorite?”

“The Cygnus.” He turned and met Dave’s baby blues. “And you?”

“Pegasus.”

Out there, under the witness of stars and five, nosy, dead soldiers; something began to shift.

(***)

“How do you do it?”

“What?” Klaus asked distractedly.

The scare from earlier—with the ambush and his growing powers—had caused the headache of a life time, to manifest behind his eyes. He can still feel the hand on his shoulder—even after it and Denise and long gone incorporeal—as if he’d been burned. The thought that he could _finally_ interact with his siblings, meant that so too could _anything_ _else_ that haunted him.

The saying ‘careful what you wish for’ had never rung truer.

“How do you do it?” Dave repeated and brought him back yet again. “The mines, the enemies, you always seem to know where they’re going to be.”

Klaus hesitated.

There wasn’t any suspicion in his voice—none that he could hear, anyway—only genuine curiosity. Maybe he _wasn’t_ doing such a hot job with blending in anymore, but he couldn’t sit back and let the others die either; not when he had the means to help.

Using the ghosts to scout ahead, had saved Will’s life today.

His accidental power flux, had saved his own.

“Klaus?”

“You wouldn’t believe me, if I told you.”

Most people never did.

“You’re not a spy.”

Klaus faltered at that—at the surety in Dave’s voice. “Of course not! Where did that even come from?” He laughed nervously.

“A spy is the only other explanation I can think of,” He answered simply with a shrug. “And you said I wouldn’t believe you, if you told me.” He shrugged again. “Well, you being a spy would be the only thing I wouldn’t believe.”

Klaus had no words, mouth floundering like a fish out of water as the meaning behind his statement, hit him.

“You trust me?” He finally found his voice to ask; the words coming out breathily in awe and disbelief.

“I do. You haven’t led me astray yet.” Dave nodded with a comforting grin. “So how about you try me?”

 _Rip it off like a band-aid_ , Klaus pepped to himself. Just like ripping off a ban—

“I see dead people.”

Klaus held his breath in the silence that followed.

_Shit, shit, shit, shi—_

“Okay, not want I was expecting, but—okay.”

_Shit?_

“Okay?” Klaus blinked owlishly. “Really?”

Dave chuckled. “Really.”

“huh,” Klaus didn’t know what else to say.

“Do the ghosts forewarn you?”

Klaus nodded; still completely and utterly awestruck at this beautiful man—and thanking his lucky stars, that out of anyone he could have met in this war; it was him.

“That’s pretty handy.”

Klaus could do now more than laugh.

(***)

“Wait, what did you mean—you weren’t expecting that?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

"That's not an answer!"

"Don't worry about it."

(***)

If their drunken kiss was alike to fireworks igniting, then this kiss—this kiss was simply _heaven on earth_. Like the breath of fresh air, after a rainstorm. Like the oasis for a man, dying of thirst.

Below the very stars that witnessed the gravitational shift; they witnessed the very same men, steal a small moment, under the cover of the jungle.


	11. The Stories We Tell, The Memories We Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was Klaus’ day off from the diner; the apartment experiencing a rare quiet—save for the TV lowly rumbling in the background of the kitchen. He was currently working on a pretty impressive scarf, while Vanya snooped around; when he heard her gasp softly.
> 
> “You have my book.”
> 
> The words were just as breathy; tone disbelieving, but border-lining on hopeful as she uttered them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((I know this is short, but i still hope you enjoy it all the same ^_^))

“Why can’t we just go to the park or the movies? You don’t _need_ anything else.”

“I’m not going to _buy_ anything, Ben.” Klaus huffed petulantly; Goodbye hand waving lazily in his direction. “I’m just gonna look around.”

Five snorted. “That’s what you always say.”

“Hey!”

Ben chuckled as Klaus and Five began to bicker back and forth—Klaus getting more and more animated and missing the smirk fighting it’s way on Five’s face. “He’s not wrong. You spent twenty dollars last week on a tea kettle you didn’t need.”

“ _We needed_ that tea kettle!”

“ _We_ didn’t need it, and neither did _you_.” Five declared.

“You two are the worst!”

“Are we now?” Ben asked sarcastically. “And here I thought we were your favorites.”

“ _Nope,_ Mitchell is officially my new favorite.” Klaus blew a raspberry at them both. “At least the old man knows how to have some fun.”

“I’m wounded.” Five deadpanned.

Ben was the one who spotted it; the two ahead of him still bickering back and forth—oblivious to the book store window they passed.

It wasn’t uncommon for Ben to keep an eye on the store front; always looking for a new release or a best seller, but to see his sister’s thirteen-year-old face on the cover, had him pausing.

“Ben?”

He didn’t look over at them as they turned around to head back to his side; simply pointed at the display before him.

“Oh! Our little sister decided to write a tell all book!”

“You’re the same age, Klaus. She’s not your little sister.”

“Pfft,” Klaus rolled his head to look at Five with his tongue sticking out. “You’re taller than she is, Five—and you’re dead.” Klaus responded impassively. “She will _always_ be our little sister.” Heading toward the door, he exclaimed excitedly. “Wonder what kinda juicy tea Vanya spilt on daddy dearest!”

(***)

“We were never a real family. We were our father’s creation, a family in name but not in fact. In short, we were just objects; tools bought in convenience by a rich and powerful man, when our own mothers didn’t want us.”

“Go off sis! Stick it to the old bastard!” Klaus exclaimed excitedly as he flipped the page for Ben to continue reading aloud.

“Will you quit it!” Five griped. “We’re only on page three and you’ve had ten things to say already!”

Klaus made a face. “Can’t I be proud of our dear Vanya for finally stepping up?”

Five rolled his eyes and muttered. “At this rate we’ll never finish the book.”

Ben cleared his throat—loudly—and glared at them both. This was why Ben used to love reading alone.

The tone in the room quickly went down hill from there as the pages where read and turned. There were no more interruptions, simply a stunned silence that Ben filled with his narrative.

“In the end, after our brother Ben had died,” Ben faltered. He’d had years to come to grips with the truth, could even joke about it with Klaus and Five, but to hear it—to see it—from another sibling’s point of view, was hard. “There was really nothing left connecting us. We were just strangers living under the same roof—destined to be alone, _starved_ for attention, damaged by our upbringing and haunted by what might have been. **”**

Distractedly, Klaus flipped it to the next page during the silence that followed; biting his cuticles as Five paced in the background.

“Klaus,” Ben voiced gently. “I wasn’t done with that page.”

The page was flipped back.

(***)

Klaus didn’t even bother trying to eavesdrop on Ben and Five’s quiet conversation; his attention solely on the book in his hands—that felt as heavy as lead, the longer he held it.

On one hand, he was proud of her. Almost all of them had rebelled against Reginald at one point or another in their lives. It was high time she had stepped up for herself and done the same.

But was dragging all the rest of them out in the mud, really necessary?

After all this time, was that really all she viewed them as? Nothing but strangers living under the same roof? Was that what all of them—even Ben and Five—meant to her when Klaus had _always_ viewed her as his sister?

He may not have ever went out of his way to include her in things, not like Ben and not like Five.

(They were always training back then. Hardly ever had a real moment to themselves; lucky if they even got a solid thirty minutes a day to ‘play’. In so short of a time, they were lucky if any of them had any good memories at all.)

He might not have been the best brother he could have been, but she was still _their sister_. The quiet sister who cried, when Diego had pushed Luther into the ant hill. The sister who hated oatmeal with a passion, but loved vegetable omelets and sausage patties. The sister whose favorite colors were white and baby blue. The sister whose favorite flower was orchids.

Between the three of them, they knew these things about her. After the book, did she even know anything about them, past their own faults and traumas?

 _They were_ nothing _but strangers._

Klaus knew that wasn’t fair, but it still stung. He knew some of what she said was true. He knew he had willingly fallen down that rabbit hole, but at thirteen, what other choice did he really have? What choice did he have when no one took his side but their own? When no one had ever taken him seriously? When the man who was supposed to help and _nurture them_ , called him useless and weak for fearing his powers; throwing him in a dark mausoleum in order to ‘benefit’ Klaus’ potential, but only making things so much worse.

The heat of the fireplace tempted him; the book hovering dangerously close.

He wanted to be angry—he _was_ angry, he was also _hurt_. He wanted to throw the damn thing into the flames and watch the words burn up into ash. Wanted to forget Ben had even read it in the first place.

His eyes caught the grey image of her on the cover.

He deflated.

He couldn’t do it.

He was angry. He felt betrayed. He felt naked and exposed to a world that greedily ate up anything they could on him and his siblings. It would take a while before he could see himself forgiving her; but she was _still_ his sister—no matter the things she wrote.

With a sigh, the book found a spot in his commandeered corner of the bookshelf.

Spinning on his bare heels; he clapped his hands loudly and plastered on the biggest smile he could manage as he entered the kitchen.

“I think waffles and Nutella are in order for tonight.”

(***)

It was a little over a week after Vanya’s funeral; when she found the book among his things.

It was Klaus’ day off from the diner; the apartment experiencing a rare quiet—save for the TV lowly rumbling in the background of the kitchen. He was currently working on a pretty impressive scarf, while Vanya snooped around; when he heard her gasp softly.

“You have my book.”

The words were just as breathy; tone disbelieving, but border-lining on hopeful as she uttered them.

Klaus paused halfway through a knit-pearl; knitting needles lowering and fingers tangling in the yarn as he watched her. There was a question in her eyes, one that she clearly didn’t have the nerve to ask; but Klaus wasn’t sure if he could even answer it—or if he even should.

How do you tell your sister that you hated it; but that you were proud of her anyway for finding her voice? How do you tell your sister, that the only reason he kept the thing, was because it was the only pictures he had of her—both from when she was younger and as an adult? When he couldn’t even say he had that for the rest of his siblings.

He went for safe instead.

“Gotta say, I give you props for growing a pair, sis.”

Five—forever the little shit that he was—had no shame in blurting out that particular secret; never once looking away from the show he and Ben were watching. Ben—because he was also a little shit—chuckled lowly at Klaus’ general aura of uncomfortableness. Klaus had half a mind to reach for the remote and switch the channel to one of those obnoxiously loud, kids shows.

 _Gonna act like little shits, I’ll treat you like little shits,_ he mused silently. _Ass-hats._

Vanya’s quiet “Oh,” caused him to look over at her instead.

There was a small, shy little smile, that twitched at her lips and Klaus sagged. He could suck up his own embarrassment; the whole thing worth it if it meant he and his actions were the reason for putting that smile there in the first place.


	12. The Rickety Bridges We Stand Upon and Rebuild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is where you’re living?” Diego pushed out as he pulled to a stop by the curb.
> 
> Five snorted. “He lives in a boiler room of a gym. He doesn’t get to judge.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((I’m gonna say the start of this takes place two months after Vanya dies. But it jumps through the months and years from there.
> 
> Also this is officially the last of the in-between snippets I have for this story. There may or may not be more in the future, but I’ve decided that I will be doing the season 1 au chapters now.
> 
> I can’t say the next installments are gonna be out as quickly as these snippets because I have a feeling they’re gonna be longer; but I can promise you that no matter what you read, this story will have a happy ending. And it will get done. I’m hoping before season 2 comes out, but no promises on that one.
> 
> For now, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I hope you all have enjoyed the story so far! There will be more, so stay tuned!!!)))

If Ben was Klaus’ emotional support ghost—and overall conscience, when Klaus couldn’t be bothered most days to use his own—and Vanya the soundtrack provider to his daily life; then Five was his attack and guard dog.

(Klaus still found it funny that the other spirits feared the little twerp, but man was he thankful they were).

For all that Klaus liked to make jokes about it; Five couldn’t honestly say he disagreed with his choice of description for all of them.

The downside, however, of being labeled the guard dog, was that Five tended to have to follow him everywhere he went—or risk Klaus getting overwhelmed by the yelling specters. They hadn’t shown up for quite some time now—the last incident over six months ago—but Five wasn’t taking any chances.

(He had several theories as to why the ghouls weren’t pushing the boundaries anymore; but Five wouldn’t bring them up to Klaus until he had his evidence on stabler ground.)

There were worse things, Five supposed, then having to guard your brother’s every move.

Besides, Five found a hobby he hadn’t even realized he would enjoy so much—though in his current state of being there wasn’t much else he could really do. People watching, after spending those short few months in the apocalypse in solitude, had grown to become a personal favorite while he was stuck for hours at the diner.

He liked studying people; liked making up stories of where people were going in such a hurry or how they lived their lives just by the orders they’d place. The people that frequented the restaurant, were some of the best to obverse for that sole purpose alone.

Today was no exception.

The back booth—that was usually their table to stay in while Klaus worked his shifts—was currently packed with a family of 8; the diner experiencing a rare busy day, where there was a line out the door for seating. Ben and Vanya had taken one look at the crowds and turned back for home, leaving Mitchell as Five’s only companion; the two of them sitting by the coffee machine behind the counter bar.

With the swarm of people, Klaus, Roxie, and Margie had their hands full; but they weren’t the only ones the two were watching.

“What do you think his story is?” Mitchell questioned, as they observed a group of young adults sitting at one of Margie’s booths.

“He’s either claustrophobic or he’s playing hooky from his job.” Five guessed.

“Evidence?”

Five began to tick off on his fingers. “He can’t sit still in his seat. He’s constantly looking out the window and at the door. His eyes keep bouncing from face to face. I’m leaning more toward he’s skipping or avoiding someone, though.” He mused as he really thought about it. “He keeps ducking his face down when he sees any dirty blonde heads.”

This went on for another hour, before Five grew bored of it and Mitchell had long since wandered elsewhere for the day. The crowd wasn’t as bad now, but it was still busy enough for the din of the restaurant to ring in his ears.

“Klaus, could you help me with—”

“On it, Roxie-Loxie!”

Five’s eyes landed on the young mother of three, as she bustled around.

Roxie still reminded him of Vanya in a way; even after observing and getting to know her the past year. She was small and inconspicuous to the rest of the world—just going about her daily life as best she could. But that was where the similarities ended. Despite Roxie’s troubled past with family who didn’t want her, she didn’t let it define her; still coming out sweet and caring with barely a mean streak in her very marrow. It was no wonder that Margie and Mitchell had taken the girl under their wing. Even Klaus had grown strangely protective of her and her little brood of kids—but Roxie just incited that type of reaction from people. Far too moral and naïve for her own good.

Not to say her kindness made her naïve; but her young age and view of the world, certainly did in Five’s opinion.

Out of the three servers—not including Klaus—Roxie was also the easiest to get along with, and the easiest to work around. Like now, watching as Klaus and Roxie flitted around each other like a well-oiled machine; serving each other’s customers when the other was busy taking an order or refilling drinks.

The bell chiming above the door, signaled another patron, and Five glanced over to see a woman with a badge around her neck and her partner. They were seated soon enough by Margie and quickly served by Klaus, but when he took longer to take their order—he and the woman chatting a few seconds longer—Five narrowed his eyes.

He would have to ask about it later.

(***)

Klaus sat at the booth with Ben and Five—Vanya having decided to stay home tonight— with his back toward the door, as he filled the condiment and sugar containers back up for the next day’s rush. Margie was off tonight (the poor woman needed it, never really taking time for herself as Mitch had complained to Klaus countless times), which left Klaus, Lynn and Miguel to clean up and close shop.

Miguel was in the kitchen cleaning the stove top and Lynn was mopping the floor, when the bell over the door chimed.

Klaus sighed heavily. They had another forty odd minutes left before they were to officially close, but with the slow night they were having; he had hoped they could leave earlier.

“Klaus, it’s Diego.” Ben informed him; both he and Five staring in puzzled wonder over his shoulder.

Klaus didn’t have time to turn around to look for himself, when the familiar voice reached his ears.

“You know, I almost didn’t believe it when she said you were working here.”

With a grin, Klaus scooted out of the booth and crossed the short distance to hug his brother enthusiastically. It was a stiff hug, but when he wasn’t shoved off immediately; Klaus considered it a win as he released him. Glancing at Lynn in askance, who nodded her head that she could handle the chores; Klaus gestured for Diego to sit at the booth he’d just vacated.

“Can I get you anything?”

“Water?”

“You got it!”

One cup of water later, had Klaus sitting across from Diego; with Ben and Five taking the empty spaces next to them. The silence stretched awkwardly as Klaus went back to his previous task and Diego sipped at his glass.

“How do you know Eudora?”

Klaus grinned; lips stretching wider when Ben sighed heavily, with a fatigue Ben couldn’t exactly feel—but was there none the less.

“She was my arresting officer a couple of times.”

Diego snorted and muttered a ‘ _figures’,_ under his breath. “How long have you been working here?”

“A little over a year.” Klaus answered with a shrug.

“A year?”

Klaus paused and glanced up at the surprise in Diego’s voice, even if his face didn’t outright show it. “Yup!”

“You staying with anyone?”

Klaus shook his head. “I’ve got my own place.”

“Really?” Klaus didn’t answer, but Diego continued anyway. “Wow.”

 _I’m clean too_ , went unsaid. Klaus hadn’t been believed during Vanya’s funeral, so why waste his energy on it now.

“I’m proud of you.” Klaus looked up again; Diego meeting his eyes earnestly before glancing down at the glass in his hand. “I mean that. It’s good to see you doing better for yourself.”

In the end, Diego offered him a ride home.

(***)

“You just wanna see where I live; stalker.”

“Forget I even asked.”

“Nope!” He raced for the car. “No take backsies!”

(***)

“ _This_ is where you’re living?” Diego pushed out as he pulled to a stop by the curb.

Five snorted. “He lives in a boiler room of a _gym_. He doesn’t get to judge.”

(***)

“Diego?” Klaus barely got out as he opened his door and Diego pushed in. “Wha—” he closed the door and whirled around after him. “What happened?”

Diego was favoring his left leg and there was a nasty cut through his eyebrow; the skin swollen where someone must have gotten a good hit in.

“I’m fine. You should see the other guys.”

Klaus stared wide eyed at Ben, who hovered near him, while Five and Vanya hovered near Diego; their brother collapsing on Klaus’ folded-out futon.

“What happened?” he repeated.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Klaus shared another wide-eyed look with Ben, who gestured wildly in Diego’s direction.

“That’s not good enough, Klaus.”

He _knew_ that, Ben. _Thank you._

With a roll of his eyes, he walked over toward his bathroom to get what little first aid he had handy in the medicine cabinet.

“How the hell did you even get into my building? Or know that I live on this floor? Are you _actually_ stalking me?!”

“Klaus, that’s not important! He’s bleeding!” Vanya called back.

“I’ll be out of your hair in the morning.” Diego evaded the questions. “Just need to lay low for a while.”

“From the bad guys?” Klaus asked curiously with a tilt of his head as he exited the bathroom. When Diego didn’t say anything and averted his eyes, Klaus got the hint with a gleeful grin. “ _Oh_ ,” he cooed, “Is someone in trouble with a certain _lady_ cop?”

Diego glared, evaded that question too and gestured at Klaus. “You gonna put pants on?”

Klaus glanced down at the rainbow briefs he was wearing and glanced back up with a raised brow. “I was just _heading to bed_. Which you’re bleeding on, by the way.”

As Diego and Klaus began to bicker while Diego dressed his own wounds; Five uttered, “At least he’s wearing them.”

Vanya turned to Five in horror.

“I’ve seen far worse.” Ben stated tiredly.

Vanya’s continued horrified gaze, bounced back and forth between the two of them, and Five shook his head with a shudder.

“Don’t ask.”

“Please tell me it was accidental, at least?” Vanya found her voice to inquire.

“It was,” Ben answered as Five groaned. “Dumbass forgot to grab cloths before showering, and thought we were still up on the roof.”

“What part of—don’t ask—wasn’t understood?” Five griped with another shudder.

“Still not the worst I’ve seen.” Ben deadpanned.

They tuned back in as Diego and Klaus fought over who would sleep on the floor.

“Take the bed, Dee.”

“No, _you_ take the bed.”

Klaus shrugged. “Fine,”

“Klaus!” Ben exclaimed.

But Klaus didn’t plop on the futon like they expected him too; shooting Ben a quick dirty look as he snatched a pillow and blanket and flopped on the floor by the unlit fireplace.

“Klaus, I don’t need the bed!”

“Then it stays empty,” Klaus shrugged again, stubbornly adjusting the pillow and tucking himself in. “Cause I’m already comfy.”

The loud exhale of air, reverberated in the room; but the creak of the futon as Diego settled back on it, had Klaus grinning in triumph.

(***)

The next morning, Klaus woke with an extra blanket draped over him and no Diego in sight.

“He left ten minutes ago.” Five answered his unasked question as Klaus stood from the ground with an all-mighty groan.

“He also left you something.” Ben waved to said something, sitting innocently on his kitchen island.

With a yawn and a stretch that had all his limbs popping; Klaus moved to examine the object, and grinned at the can of pepper spray and the note.

_Carry it with you, at all times._

_-D_

(***)

“Diego!” Klaus startled as he walked into his apartment late one afternoon. He sent a quick, betrayed glare at the three stooges, who conveniently failed to warn him of the _intruder_ in his home, when they had gone up before him. “How do you keep getting in here? Did you make a mold of my key?!”

“No,” Diego replied as he snatched some of the grocery bags from his hand to place them in the kitchen.

“You forgot to lock the window before we left.” Five enlightened him with a glare; pointing at said window currently open and letting the autumn breeze in.

“Oh yeah,” Klaus muttered. “Oops.”

“I got in through your window.” Diego stated over Five’s uttered ‘ _Dumbass’_. “You shouldn’t leave it unlocked, Klaus. This isn’t a safe neighborhood.”

Vanya snorted and mumbled. “ _See_ , it happens.”

“ _Idiots_.” Five shook his head at them both.

“Do you really need this much junk food, Klaus?” Diego judged as he rooted through his groceries and cabinets.

“I feel so attacked right now.” Klaus groaned. “In my _own_ god damn _home_.”

(***)

It became routine after that.

Klaus would be at work and Diego would pop in every once in a while. Klaus would be walking home—from work, from the store, from wherever—and Diego would offer him a ride if he was in the area.

It wasn’t a weekly or even a monthly occurrence, but it was more than it ever had been before.

(***)

Diego stared flatly at the shopping bag that was thrust into his lap.

“What’s this?” he questioned as Klaus made himself comfy in the front seat of his car.

“Gifts!”

He narrowed his eyes and took a glance at the bag’s contents. “My place better not start looking like yours, Klaus. I don’t need all this stuff.”

Despite his complaining, Diego didn’t give the knick-knacks back; nor anything else that found it’s way in the boiler room he called home.

(***)

“Did you seriously just eat a _raw_ egg?” Klaus voiced in disgust.

“I believe he just did.” Vanya uttered in equal disgust.

“And he’s going to do it _again_.” Ben added.

“Oh, for the love of—” Klaus cut himself off and shooed Diego away from his fridge; snatching the second egg from Diego’s hand as he did so. “I do have a working stovetop, you know?!” with a shake of his head, he asked. “Fried or scrambled?”

“You don’t need to cook for me.”

“You aren’t eating raw eggs, Dee. Not in _my_ house.” He pointed an accusing finger in his direction as he snatched the frying pan from the dish rack. “Fried or scrambled?”

“Since when did you know how to cook?”

“ _Fried or scrambled_?”

“Scrambled.”

(***)

The buzz from the intercom, awoke Klaus from a pretty sound sleep.

With a groan, he rolled and buried his face into the pillows; hoping Diego would just shove off and come back at a reasonable hour.

The buzzer went off again.

Diego _better_ have a good excuse for waking him up so early in the god damn morning. Klaus was perfectly content to let the bastard stew outside—knowing he would just break in eventually.

Klaus shot straight up at that last thought as the heavy fog of sleep, dissipated from his mind.

Diego _never_ used the buzzer.

_Ever._

Other then Diego, there was only two other people who knew where he lived; and Klaus _worked_ with both of them.

Hopping off the futon and throwing on a pair of pants, Klaus noted Five and Vanya weren’t there; probably to check on who was out front of the complex as he searched for a clean shirt. He shared a worried glance with Ben as he walked toward the intercom.

“I _really_ hate your gut instincts, Ben. Have I ever told you that?”

“ _Repeatedly._ ”

He was just about to press the button to ask who was on the other side; when the sudden appearance of his missing siblings, stopped him.

“It’s Roxie and her kids.” Five announced.

“She looks scared, Klaus.” Vanya added.

He pressed the button to unlock the complex’s front door instead, then went out to meet Roxie halfway up the steps.

“What’s going on, is everything okay?”

There were tears in her eyes as she held her two-year-old daughter tightly to her chest; her four-year-old twin sons hiding behind her legs as they peaked up at him on the second-floor landing.

“Could we stay here for a bit? Margie’s still out of town with her daughter and I didn’t know where else to go.”

Her voice snapped him back into action as he ushered them to follow him up to the third floor.

“Of course, you can stay. What’s going on? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” It was poor choice of wording considering _he_ was the dead whisperer, but it seemed to do the trick.

“My ex,” she started once they were inside and the door was shut and locked behind them. she continued, as she ushered her boys up onto his futon at Klaus’ nod of consent. “He’s been calling and harassing me all night. I usually go to Margie for this, but—”

“She’s not here.” Klaus finished for her. “Have you called the police?”

“They won’t do anything unless his verbal harassment gets physical. And without a restraining order they can’t arrest him for calling me.” She answered as she paced. “The only thing they could do is send someone to patrol my street for the night, in case he shows up, but—” she trailed off again, pausing her nervous movements as her daughter squirmed against her hold.

“You didn’t think that would be enough.” Klaus finished for her again.

“No,” she shook her head in agreement.

“Poor girl.” Vanya breathed as she looked at the small family. “Her kids don’t need this. Their scared.”

“Their _all_ scared.” Five corrected.

“Call Diego; he’ll know what to do.” Ben told him needlessly; Klaus was already thinking about it.

“I’m gonna call someone who can help, okay?” Klaus told her, as he gently took her by the shoulders and steered her toward the futon with her sons. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need to— _mi casa es su casa_.” He winked at her; earning a small smile in exchange.

Klaus wasn’t sure if anyone would be at the boxing ring at four in the morning, or if Diego would hear the phone from the boiler room, but he gave it the good try anyway.

Thankfully the manager of the ring was there to pick up the call.

(***)

He had left a message with Al, since Diego hadn’t been there.

But that had been over an hour ago.

They had just gotten Roxie’s boys to sleep; with her daughter going down a bit harder, when shit hit the fan.

It wasn’t noticeable at first, the two busy with trying to get the kids comfortable as they waited for Diego to call back or arrive. It was Vanya who heard it, and ultimately brought attention to it. With the noise in the apartment ceasing as Klaus held up a hand toward Roxie, they both heard it—faint yelling coming from outside the apartment complex.

Klaus’ windows weren’t situated at the front of the building, so none of them could see the road; but his windows did have access to the fire escape that led to the alleyway below.

While Ben and Five went out to investigate the noise this time; Klaus made quick work of checking the locks on his windows and pulling all the blinds shut. He didn’t have very many weapons in the house, but he did have a fire iron by the fireplace and the can of pepper spray by the door.

It would have to do.

He quickly grabbed the can and tossed it to Roxie, who clutched it nervously as he went for the fire iron.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this.” she told him despairingly.

“Hey, no, it’s okay.” He turned to her; the hand not holding his chosen weapon, going to her shoulder and giving it what he hoped was a comforting squeeze. “I’m glad you came to me.” He reassured her, ducking his head to meet her eyes. “It’s going to be _okay._ You’ll see. So, don’t you apologize.”

“You should call the police, Klaus.” Vanya stated. “If it’s him, this goes beyond just verbal harassment; he _stalked_ her here.”

He knew that, but he couldn’t exactly say that out loud. Roxie was already freaked out enough as it was; he didn’t need her freaking out over him ‘talking to himself’.

Ben and Five coming back to confirm that there was a deranged, drunk-off-his-ass, man trying to break in and yelling out for Roxie; only spurred Klaus to move faster.

He had the phone in hand when a sudden memory hit him, and he quickly turned to Roxie and pointed to the bathroom.

Five years ago, Klaus had been in a similar position with a cruel Ex. Ben’s quick thinking had saved his life that day.

If it called for it, it could save her and her kids too.

“Roxie, I need you to listen very carefully to what I’m about to say.” He told her as calmly as he could make himself; his fingers hovering over the keypad of the phone as the younger girl began to panic. Klaus was panicking too, but the years of training in the academy had paid off for something at least. “Nothing is going to happen; okay? I need you to take a deep breath for me. Breathe Roxie, that’s it.” he encouraged. “I’m going to call the police, and help will be here; but I need you to take the kids and hide in the bathroom. You’re going to lock the door, and your going to take the hairdryer cord and wrap it around the knob and tie it— _real tight_ —to the towel rack. You think you can do that for me?”

She shakily nodded her head, while Ben looked at him with pain in his eyes—the memory must have hit him too.

“Good, _good_.” Klaus nodded to himself. “Take the pepper spray with you and don’t open the door until I tell you too; okay?”

She nodded again, but the poor girl was frozen in her fear.

The faint rattling of the fire escape, urged Klaus into moving her himself—he would call the police after he made sure she was safe.

He gently picked up Tia and placed her into Roxie’s arms, ushering her toward the bathroom as he grabbed her sons. One of the twins—Anthony if he remembered correctly; it was always hard to tell the identical boys apart—awoke quickly, but Drew had to be carried; the kid dead asleep to the chaos around him.

“Roxie, _you can do this_.” He cut in through her panic. “I _need_ you to do this. Everything is going to be okay.” He assured her as he pulled the door closed. He didn’t move away until he heard the lock click and the shuffle of Roxie doing exactly as he instructed.

“Klaus, he’s busting in windows.” Five warned; leaning half his body through the wall as he kept an eye on the man’s progress.

“Shit!” he was just picking up the phone again when Vanya appeared through the wall he shared with his neighbor.

“Don’t bother with the police, Mrs. Jones is on the phone with them.”

He hung up and grabbed the fire iron; palms sweating and muscles tensed and coiled to spring.

Where the _hell_ was Diego.

Klaus didn’t need Five to tell him what was happening. Klaus could _hear_ the breaking of glass now; gripping the poker tighter to the point of pain as his heart settled uncomfortably in his throat. On silent bare feet, he toed his way to hide in the shadows beside the window frame.

He wasn’t strong like Luther. He couldn’t curve objects like Diego. He couldn’t rumor the bastard to leave Roxie alone like Allison.

Klaus’ only hope in this situation, was the element of surprise.

The breaking of glass and the yelling got louder. The rattling of the fire escape, and the raining of shard fragments, ricocheting like bullets in Klaus’ head.

Louder still it got, Ben and Vanya hovering around him helplessly as Five continued to throw updates over his shoulder.

The yelling was on his floor now, he could see the shadows playing against the curtains.

He readied his weapon.

The sound of a struggle met Klaus’ ears instead of shattering glass.

“It’s Diego!”

“Oh, thank god!” Klaus sighed in relief.

(***)

“Took you long enough.” Klaus griped loudly, as Detective Patch cuffed and led Roxie’s Ex off to the back of a squad car.

“I was a little busy.” Diego glared.

“Busy with _what_ at this early hour in the morning?” Klaus waggled his eyebrows, despite knowing the real answer.

His arm was shoved for his troubles; nearly sending his tired body off kilter, but Klaus cackled in delight all the same.

And if his apartment was bursting at the seams for the rest of the morning and afternoon; Klaus could care less—so long as he got _some_ sleep before his shift later that night. Simply passing out by the unlit fireplace with barely a wave in anyone’s direction, as Roxie and her kids claimed his futon and Diego set up shop on the floor by the door.


	13. The Countdown Starts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As she got closer, as she finally took her eyes away from the hulking figure that was her brother; she finally noticed just where Luther and Pogo had ended up and frowned.
> 
> “—deepest apologies, my boy.”
> 
> “You could have told me.” His voice was quiet but no less angry, no less hurt, as Luther’s eyes stared up dejectedly at the poor imitation of her visage that marked her grave.
> 
> “Your father didn’t want to distract you from your mission.” Pogo tried to reason. “He commanded it.”
> 
> “She was my sister, Pogo!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (((Alright folks, we’re getting into the changes from season one, now. So, buckle up and enjoy the ride! 
> 
> I know it’s 8 days from the start of the funeral, but I doubt police would have released Reggie’s body that quickly for a funeral to be the next day after it was broadcast. So, I’m thinking there are actually 12 days before the end of all and it starts at the released news of Reggie’s death. Which gives time for an autopsy, to release and cremate the body, and for the rest of the siblings to get home—like Luther on the moon and Allison in California. I could be wrong, but that’s just my reasoning.
> 
> Enjoy guys!))

In all the chaos that commenced after that eventful experience in the alley; Five hadn’t really had the time to process anything.

Up until now at least.

With the money Klaus had been able to scrounge up after busting out of the hospital; he managed to get one night at the sleaziest motel Five had ever had the privilege of seeing. He eyed the dingy duvet cover with disgust as Klaus hopped on top of the single bed and made himself comfortable.

He sent Ben that disgusted look; who grunted out a laugh.

“It’s better than the alleyway.”

“Is it though?” Five questioned dubiously; refusing to go near any of the surfaces despite being—

_Yeah._

He wasn’t touching that subject _quite_ yet.

He would have to eventually, but—just not yet.

Instead, he asked the questions he knew were the safest.

How much time had passed since he’d been gone? What happened to the academy? Where were the others? How were they doing? How were Klaus and Ben doing?

He didn’t expect to find out Ben was dead too. Though the evidence certainly did point to it, when Ben was the only person and thing that Five didn’t phase—

_Nope, not yet._

There were more important things to go over and discuss first.

“Five, what happened?” this came from Ben, as Klaus sat up with his legs crossed to listen; Klaus’ face set in the most serious expression Five could ever remember seeing on his clown of a brother.

“I did it.” He answered simply. “I time traveled,” He continued. “And went to the future.”

“I _knew_ it!” Klaus exclaimed loudly. “I _so_ called it! And _no one_ ever believed me!”

“ _Congratulations_.” Five deadpanned; lips twitching upward despite it all. “You’re not a _complete_ idiot.”

Klaus stuck his tongue out in retaliation—now _that_ was the Klaus, Five remembered.

 _“Hey!_ I could deal without the sarcasm, Five-y, but I’ll still take the compliment!”

“Don’t call me that.”

Ben—eyes begging the ceiling for patience—cut in to get things back on track. “You went to the future?”

“I went to the future.” Five confirmed. “And do you know what I found?” he asked rhetorically. “Nothing. _Absolutely_ nothing.”

“How long were you there?” Ben spoke after the pregnant pause stretched too long.

“Three months.” Five answered. “In the beginning, I thought maybe it was just our city, but I ventured out—made it as far as the Niagara Falls. _Everything_ was the same.”

He proceeded to tell them the story. Of their world crumbled to ruin and covered in ash. Of the pressing heat that put even the hottest summers to shame. Of air that was polluted by emissions from gas plants and other structures no longer standing to contain it. Of the soot that fell like snow around him and blocked his view of the sky entirely.

He told them of the glass eye he found. Forced his way, uncomfortably, through retelling how he came across their bodies—minus Ben and Vanya—and how they had died fighting that person who Five believed was the key to the end of the world.

He left out how it took three days to bury them all. How the heat of the atmosphere had accelerated the decaying process within that time frame, but that he couldn’t bear to just leave them laying there. He left out how it was impossible for him to move and bury Luther the traditional way like he’d done for the others; piling carriable stones and slabs of concrete around his body instead, and hoping that it had been enough.

He recited everything he remembered in clear detail; from the serial number down to the very shape, color, and pupil size of the eye. He recited every word, every article, front to back, of the newspaper he’d found—the very worn newspaper he’d left in the wagon with Delores.

Five’s heart panged at the thought of her. Hating that he had left Delores behind the way he had.

He proceeded to tell them of the possible theories he had come up with during that time; but that he was no closer to figuring out what that person could have done to cause a total wipe out of their entire planet.

“We have, how long now?” Klaus inquired; octave higher than usual as Five’s story came to a finish.

Five sighed and repeated. “We have six years.”

The snort of air Ben released at that, echoed in the tiny room.

(***)

_Six years later_

The time, they all had been dreading, was finally here.

Sure, the countdown had been there from the moment Five revealed his story, but today truly marked the beginning of the end.

Today, the world was supposed to receive the news of Sir Reginald Hargreeves’ passing.

Key word—supposed to.

Ben sat up on the roof; legs dangling over the ledge and eyes up on the starry expense of sky, as his worry grew the closer the time ticked toward midnight. Five had been _so sure_ the news would be announced sometime today—having seen the short article in the newspaper from the future.

Ben hadn’t doubted Five’s surety of the matter—Five could _still_ recite those damn articles, cover to cover for them; even after all this time.

So, what had changed?

What had changed from then to now? Did this mean the apocalypse may not even happen?

Had they stopped it without even realizing it?

The Horror and _Their_ unease, told him otherwise; but that still didn’t change the fact that there was nothing but radio silence across all broadcast systems.

If this had changed. Then what else could have changed?

Would they still be looking for a man with a glass eye? Would Klaus and the others still come together to fight whatever this evil was and perish?

Ben hoped not, but that didn’t change his growing fear of it becoming true.

Despite their best efforts; despite all the time and research Klaus was putting into Five’s theories, they _still_ had no solid plan.

He didn’t like it.

He didn’t like it one bit.

 _None_ of them did, and _They_ surely didn’t either.

“Ben?”

Startled, he turned to find Vanya behind him, but she didn’t need to say anything anymore. Her face said it all.

He couldn’t even be happy that the bastard was gone; that foreboding shadow looming too strongly in the background.

“We should go—”

“We can’t go now.” Ben cut her off.

“But Five told us to come the moment we heard something.”

“Not while Klaus is working, Vee.”

“But—”

“I’ll deal with Five after.” He told her once they both materialized back in the apartment; his eyes landing on the Television playing the breaking news. “You know how Klaus will react—it’s a given—and Friday nights are too crowded to deal with his brand of crazy.”

“Would he really do that?” Vanya asked doubtfully.

Six years ago, Ben would have answered in the affirmative, but while Klaus had grown and changed for the better, their brother was still unpredictable enough for Ben not to take that chance.

He told her as much.

“Five’s not going to be happy.”

“I’ll deal with him.”

(***)

“ _I don’t know_ why he hasn’t kicked the bucket yet, Five!” Klaus exhaled in annoyance; having heard Five’s bitching the whole night. God, he was exhausted. “Dad could never do _anything_ the easy way! So, it figures he couldn’t die right on schedule either!”

“Klaus! Do you have any idea what this means?” Five seethed, even if it wasn’t necessarily directed toward him in general. “Things are _changing_ , and we don’t know why!”

“Maybe the apocalypse was averted!?” Klaus threw his hands up. “Maybe the news publisher got the date wrong in the newspaper you found. It happens!” Klaus sighed and sent a glare at the gawking woman sitting on the bench and waiting for her bus. Normally Klaus didn’t care if people gawked, but he was already in a foul mood, and she was continuing to be rude while everyone else this late at night was giving him a wide berth on the sidewalk. “You mind? Having a conversation with my _dead brother_ here.” She still didn’t avert her eyes.

Huh, usually that did the trick for people.

Klaus walked by the bench a little quicker; her eyes more unsettling than he’d like to admit.

“We need to tell the others.”

“Why? They already know he’s not dead or they would have told us.”

“Our _living_ siblings, Klaus!”

Klaus groaned and paused to turn to him; arms flailing in exasperation. “We’ve been over this! I’m not going to them until I have proof!”

“Klaus!”

“Don’t Klaus me! They won’t believe me Five, you know they won’t! You saw what happened when I told them you died!” his arms flailed around even more; voice getting increasingly more animated and aggravated. “You even saw what happened at Vanya’s funeral and I didn’t even have to _say anything_ that time!”

“But things are different now! You’re not who you were six years ago! Diego knows this, he’s _seen_ the proof of it! If you won’t go to anyone else, at least try him!”

Klaus bodily rolled himself along with his eyes. “Oh sure—Hey Diego, remember that time I told you guys about the impending apocalypse? Yeah? Well it’s happening in less than twelve days.” Klaus glared right back at Five’s scowling face. “That’ll go over well! He’ll think I’m using again!”

“At least _try_!”

“And ruin what tentative ground I’m standing on with him?” Klaus snorted loudly, waved his Goodbye hand in Five’s face and began walking off again. “Nope, not happening. Not until I have proof.”

“We can’t do this on our own anymore! We need help!”

“I’m not doing it.”

“We are _running_ out of time, Klaus!” Five nearly screamed in frustration; hands balling into tight fists.

Klaus whirled on him again. “Yeah? And when they don’t believe me and all it achieves is more arguments—wouldn’t that be wasting _more_ time? Come on Five, this is _our family_ we’re talking about. Nothing is ever that easy for us.”

“We. Are. Running. Out. Of. Time.” Five pressed; and if he weren’t already dead, Klaus was sure the kid would have had an aneurism by now.

“I know, Five! I know! I’m trying my best here!”

“ _Well,_ you aren’t trying _hard_ enough!”

Klaus blinked once, twice, thrice at him. His eyes narrowing right back at the raged scowl on Five’s face. “You know what,” he threw his hands up in defeat, and whirled around to keep walking home. “I’m done. This conversation is over.”

“Klaus!”

“Nope.”

“Seriously!?”

“Can’t hear you!”

“Klaus!”

“La, la, la!”

“Oh my god, you are insufferable!”

“ _Man_ , is it windy out here tonight!”

As they continued to bicker and round the corner out of view; the woman at the bus stop slowly got up and headed for a payphone.

(***)

Two sets of screams filled Klaus’ apartment when they made it home. Five finally exploding with pent up rage and Klaus hopping and dancing, and yelling for the whole apartment to hear that, “Ding-dong, the bastard’s finally dead!”

“ _Told you_ this would happen.” Vanya and Ben stated at the same time to each other; expressions tired even as they shared a secret smile at the jinx.

(***)

“Let me go.” Vanya cut into the debate.

Five paused and glanced at her. “You sure?”

_Oh, she was sure._

If they continued to argue the way they were, she was going to go crazy.

Which inevitably led her here, outside of the mansion that she had once called home for seventeen years of her life. There were still a few scattered news crews and curious onlookers left on the sidewalks, but for the most part, the larger crowds had dissipated along with the police.

The inside of the mansion looked no different then it did three years ago, but it _felt_ different. The inside was still dark and suffocating, but it proceeded to contradict itself by being lighter without Reginald’s shadow, darkening the corners. She could hear the house settling, like a soft exhale of relief—or maybe that was just her—as she wandered in and out of the rooms.

When the basement and the first floor came up empty; she moved on to the second level; finding mom at her charging station for the night. The blue blinking lights of her eyes, casted eerie shadows that flashed against the floor and walls as Vanya observed her—a longing to reach out and hug her, settling deep in her soul.

It was the low, familiar tones of Pogo, that finally had Vanya moving away; following the sound down the hall until she found him in Reginald’s office; papers scattered across the desk and rotary phone held to his head. 

She stood uncomfortably in the middle of the office as Pogo hung up the phone with what sounded like Allison’s manager; simply leaving a message, before calling the number he had for Diego and getting the same result. Papers were shuffled and a drawer was pulled open as Pogo pulled a small device out and typed up a message—to Luther, Vanya could only assume.

Throughout the whole exchange, she didn’t hear a single word about a date, or time, for the funeral. With a sigh, she turned and went to her old room to wait it out.

(***)

Ben came to her a day later; finding her out in the courtyard and staring up at the clouds that rolled past—her violin held loosely between her legs.

“There’s nothing yet; I’ll report back when I do.” She told him as he plopped down on the bench next to her with a heavy sigh. She chuckled. “Needed to get away too?” A breathy, stressed filled chuckle rung out in the air. “That bad, huh?”

The look he sent her, was response enough.

(***)

Pogo left the mansion early the next morning, but Vanya stayed; shadowing after mom in worry. There was something off, and Vanya couldn’t quite place why. It worried her that mom may be deteriorating; that it may be something Pogo couldn’t fix.

She followed mom almost all day; until the sudden slam of a door echoing in the house reached her ears. She followed it to the kitchens; finding the door leading outside, wide open, as familiar voices carried their way through.

She hadn’t even been aware that Pogo had returned; or that Luther had been with him.

“Oh, _Luther_ ,” Vanya startled as she wandered out into the courtyard; jaw nearly dropping at the sheer transformation of the brother she once knew.

He was big. Bigger than big; he was _massive_. He’d always been tall too, but now he towered with his height; shoulders hunching inward to try and make himself appear smaller—which he failed miserably at.

As she got closer, as she finally took her eyes away from the hulking figure that was her brother; she finally noticed just where Luther and Pogo had ended up and frowned.

“—deepest apologies, my boy.”

“You could have _told_ me.” His voice was quiet but no less angry, no less hurt, as Luther’s eyes stared up dejectedly at the poor imitation of her visage that marked her grave.

“Your father didn’t want to distract you from your mission.” Pogo tried to reason. “He commanded it.”

“She was my _sister_ , Pogo!” Luther’s voice rose, gloved hands balling at his sides. “Three years she’s been gone, and _none of you_ thought it necessary to at least _tell me_?”

“I am truly sorry that it was kept from you. I advised against it; but there was nothing else I could have done. Your father forbade it.” With a deep, bone weary exhale; Pogo patted Luther’s forearm gently—considering it a win when Luther didn’t flinch away from his touch. “I still haven’t heard word from your siblings; but by your agreeance, I’d like to hold the ceremony tomorrow evening—with or without them, is entirely up to you.”

With that Pogo hobbled off back into the house; leaving Luther still staring up forlornly at her effigy. The kicked puppy look—no other description could describe the expression she was seeing on his face—hurt Vanya to see. While it was nice to know that her siblings did actually care about her; she never wanted to know it like _this_. Never wanted to see the raw pain that she had seen in Klaus or Ben and Five. The raw pain in Allison and Diego at her funeral. The raw pain she could see now as Luther failed to fight back the stray tears that rolled down his cheeks.

“This wasn’t your fault.” Vanya uttered on deaf ears; recognizing the underlying look for what it truly was.

Luther blamed himself for a lot of things he could never control—weighed down heavily with the mountain of responsibility placed on his shoulders as number 1. He blamed himself for Ben’s death, he blamed himself for not being strong enough to keep the team, their family, from falling apart. Now it seemed, he was shouldering her own death as well.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered to her grave.

“Not your fault.” She repeated; hand hovering over his large forearm, and wishing—not for the first time and certainly not for the last—that she could comfort a brother who _desperately_ needed it.

(***)

She trailed after Luther for a bit longer, watched as he ate the meatloaf mom plopped down in front of him. Watched as he unpacked his belongings back into the drawers of his dresser and wardrobe. Watched as he went to their father’s room, only to be stopped by Pogo.

“I think your investigation can wait until tomorrow, my boy.” Pogo advised gently. “It’s been a long day, best to tackle it with fresher eyes, I should say.”

They went back and forth for a bit. Luther pushing with his questions until Pogo finally convinced him to give it a rest for the day.

“I’ve finally heard word from Master Diego—” the phone ringing down the hall, cut Pogo off; the chimpanzee turning around in the conversation. “And that should be Mrs. Allison.”

“Then we’ll hold the memorial tomorrow evening,” Luther decided. “But only if they can get here in time.”

At Pogo’s nod, he went to go answer the phone, the tap, tap, tapping of his cane echoing along the halls. Luther took one last look at the closed door, a flicker of something Vanya couldn’t recognize running cross his face, before he turned to go back to his own room.

There was no other reason for her to stay; having finally gotten the answer she needed to report back. And while she wanted to stay, to make sure Luther would truly be alright; she knew she needed to go home.

With one last look down the hall, Vanya faded—following the familiar pull until she reappeared in the middle of the apartment.

And in the middle of chaos—though fortunately it was the _normal_ chaos to be expected in their home. Three pairs of eyes landed on her as she moved and plopped down by the lit fireplace.

“Funeral’s tomorrow evening.” 

“I work tomorrow evening.”

“Best switch your shift then.” Five uttered.

“Do you think Diego would give us a ride?” Klaus asked as he headed for the phone.

Ben snorted and settled down beside Vanya. “He gives you rides everywhere else; I don’t see why not.”

“He didn’t give us a ride to go get doughnuts!”

Vanya laughed at the memory as Five sniped. “You radioed him at three in the morning, with a walkie that’s only to be used for emergencies. _Of course_ , he wouldn’t take you; he thought something was wrong.”

“It _was_ an emergency!”

“You running out of _Tastykakes_ , and craving Griddy’s, is _not_ an emergency.” Ben chuckled. “How you’ve managed to stay skinny over the years, is beyond me.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Vanya turned to Five as Klaus called the diner to switch his shift—she hoped he could manage it considering tomorrow was his last day before taking his ‘vacation’. “ _Is_ there a plan?”

“There is _half_ of a plan.” Klaus covered the mouth piece to answer before going back to his phone call. “No, Margie, sorry—”

“ _No_ ,” Five began with a glare in his direction as he told her. “We’ve discussed this already. There is no _half_ of anything. No more bargaining either. We’re giving Klaus two more days.” Five asserted with fervor. “If he can’t find something by then; he has no other option but to tell the others.”

“That should be fun to witness.” Vanya uttered sarcastically.

“We have no other choice.” Five reminded them all. “Time isn’t giving us that luxury anymore.”

(***)

As the evening settled, as a ride was planned and the siblings proceeded to place bets on how well the funeral would turn out tomorrow; a flash of blue light flickered on the other side of the city. It was quick; barely noticed by any passerby as two people appeared in its wake—nothing on them but a briefcase, and a message to simply obverse their target until further notice.

Roughly at the same time, a window was jimmied open with a knife. A safe was cracked, file cabinets and a desk rifled through, until the contents of a pearl inlayed box was stumbled across. The red book found within was a gold mine to end all gold mines; gloved fingers running delicately over the words the person could barely see in the dark—but what could be seen, was enough. The thief was almost finished getting the office back to rights, when the faint sound of footsteps startled them into grabbing the book and the box and climbing back out the window before they were caught.


	14. Will We Ever Stop Meeting Like This?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And there they go.” Five uttered as Luther lunged and the brawl commenced; sharing a perturbed look with Vanya. “We don’t have time for this…”
> 
> “Can’t we just get through one funeral without issue?” she muttered back as Klaus snorted darkly.
> 
> “Didn’t you hear? It’s a Hargreeves tradition.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (((This chapter would have been longer, but I felt this was a good stopping point. (plus I didn't want to keep you all waiting any longer for another update). I feel I should state that I'm not gonna type the episodes or their dialogue word for word, so if there are scenes that I've decided to keep and not change, I'll give a little nod to those scenes and then continue on so I'm not rehashing everything.
> 
> This is also the first time I've tried to place myself in Luther's shoes. I don't want to bash his character, seeing as I do like all seven of the siblings (faults and all), so I hope my portrayal of him isn't too OOC. 
> 
> Special thanks and shout out to Hujwernoo, you simply are the best!! While I'm gonna take the creative freedom and keep the dates I've been using, I appreciate the correction for future fics!! To anyone else reading, go read their stuff! I've only just started reading "Comes and Goes (In Waves)", but their work truly is a delight and I promise you won't be disappointed!!!
> 
> Anyway, Enjoy guys!)))

The pink hues that danced and mingled with the inky blues of the sky; signaled a dawn fast approaching. The echo of a car door shutting, reverberated loudly in the quiet residential area as Diego sagged tiredly in his front seat. He’d been going at it all night again. Hunting leads and fighting criminals, to release the pent-up stress and aggravation he had for the coming funeral later today.

It seemed that all Diego ever saw of his siblings—barring Klaus—was at funerals these days. Half his family was dead or missing, and while he had no real love or remorse for the passing of the man who had bought and used them; Diego worried that this would continue to be a recurring theme for each and every one of them. Then there was the issue that Diego hadn’t seen Luther in twelve years—having followed Klaus and Vanya’s footsteps shortly after Ben died.

Luther might not be his favorite sibling—Luther might be _a lot_ of things—but at the end of the day; Luther was still his brother.

Even after three years, Diego was _still furious_ that Reginald couldn’t have been bothered to tell Luther that Vanya had died. Was still mad that Reginald had shipped him off to the moon for four years and Luther had gone along with it.

A part of him wondered what Daddy’s boy had to say once Luther found out about their sister, but knowing the self-sacrificing idiot, Diego was sure Luther would find a way to justify it—no matter how upset he may be by the news.

Or maybe he wouldn’t.

It’s been twelve years. For all Diego knew, Luther could have changed in that time frame. People grew and people changed all the time.

Klaus was the prime example of that fact—still very much the same in a lot of ways, but different then Diego had ever expected Klaus to be.

Diego’s tired mind continued to wander away with him as he started the car, and pulled off to head back into the city.

People may change, but Diego knew that people also had their limits. Even the most loyal, could have their foundations shaken. Deep down, Diego hoped—for Luther’s sake—that he would wake up and realize how much he’d been played.

Somehow through the drive, Diego found himself in front of the mansion and not the gym; but Instead of driving off, he simply parked down the alley and headed in through the kitchen entrance. The sun was already peaking above the horizon; there was no point turning around only to come back in a few short hours anyway, and Diego was beyond tired.

He just hoped that the few hours of sleep he’d get would be enough to deal with today’s guaranteed bullshit.

No sooner had he crashed on the sofa; he was waking up to the sound of someone coming in through the foyer. He must have gotten _some_ sleep, but the sudden awakening didn’t help the disorienting feeling as he listened to the sound of clicking heels and Pogo’s low greetings.

It wasn’t long after, that he heard the tap, tap, tapping of Pogo’s cane heading away and the clicking of those same heels drawing closer toward the archway of his location. The figure of Allison emerged, her eyes taking in the room before immediately landing on him.

“Diego,” she greeted, before eyeing him and his outfit warily. “You still wearing that god-awful get up?”

The Deja-vu feeling, from the last time they were here, was not lost on him.

“What’s wrong with it?” he challenged; echoing his words from three years prior.

She took the bait; eyebrow rising incredulously. “You seriously have to ask that?”

He snorted derisively as he got up to head past her. “Good to see you too, sis.” He didn’t give her a chance to respond, calling over his shoulder as he went up the stairs. “At least I’m wearing black.”

Lumbering footsteps coming from Reginald’s room derailed Diego from going to his own.

Guess he could kill two birds with one stone this morning. He could find out if Luther really had changed over the years, and if he hadn’t and Luther found a way to twist all this around—like he was expecting to happen—well, he had the autopsy report shoved in his back pocket to prove Luther wrong.

He just wasn’t expecting the change to be so… _physical_.

(***)

The brief, tense filled interaction he had with Diego, Luther couldn’t say he hadn’t anticipated. The awkward air around him and Allison during and after their chat in dad’s office, he couldn’t say he hadn’t predicted that either.

Gone was the easy camaraderie the two had as siblings. That had gone out the window the moment she had left the academy without telling him. They had trusted each other with everything growing up, and it had _stung—_ like a slap to the face _—_ when she hadn’t trusted him enough to say she was going off to follow her dreams.

Sure, she had kept in touch with him after the fact—even if it did take a year for her to finally call. He had even been there for her wedding, but that didn’t change the fact that things weren’t the same. That pain he felt—that festering wound—was still deep and jagged and raw.

Luther felt that way about all of them—one by one, all of them leaving without a backward glance of goodbye.

Where had it all gone wrong? Where had he gone wrong?

He hadn’t been enough to keep them together. His leadership hadn’t been enough to keep Five from leaving or Ben from dying. He hadn’t been enough for his siblings to trust and lean on him. He hadn’t even been enough for any of them to ask if he would leave _with_ them.

(He liked to think that he would have if only they’d asked. But part of him, the rational part, knew that he wouldn’t have—not back then at least. Maybe he would if Allison had asked, but he still couldn’t say for sure.)

He was Number One, but he may as well have been Number Seven for how useless he’s felt.

_Vanya…_

That betrayal from dad hurt even more. To not even be enough, to relay to him of his sister’s passing…

Did his loyalty mean nothing in the end?

Luther could forgive not being able to go to the funeral, a mission was a mission after all, but at the very least he could have been told about something as _important_ as that.

But Luther was never a thought in any of their minds, was he?

 _Maybe that was for good reason_ , a traitorous part of his mind whispered.

_Never good enough…_

His bedroom door squeaking on its hinges, had him looking up from his floor to Pogo.

“Penny for your thoughts, my dear boy?”

He sighed and made room on his bed for Pogo to sit. “Everything’s _different_.”

Pogo nodded, sending him a sympathetic look as he started gently. “As all things in life are likely to do. Change is inevitable.”

“I just don’t understand, why I wasn’t told—” he cut himself off. They’ve already had this conversation—multiple times; the frustration would only mount farther for them both. “Why am I—” he fumbled. “Why wasn’t I—”

There was too much to unpack at that moment. Too much that Luther couldn’t find the right words to articulate. Too much for him to even _want_ to share aloud; least he be seen as weak. He was Number One after all.

 _A leader doesn’t show weakness,_ the voice that sounded like father resounded in his head. _A team is only as strong as the leader who carries them. Show your true feelings and the team will surely crumble._

After a long moment, he met Pogo’s expectant eyes and said instead—ignoring how Pogo seemed to deflate with the change in topic. “I guess I shouldn’t expect Klaus to be here?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Pogo shook his head. “It’s hard to say for sure with how unpredictable your brother is, but I expect that he’ll turn up.”

“How can you be so sure? None of us know where he is half the time.”

“I’m certain he will arrive because he showed up for Vanya; and she wasn’t reported in the news like your father currently is all over the world.”

Luther’s heart panged again, but it was the thought of Vanya; the thought that half their family was gone now, that spurred him to ask how Klaus had been doing in the time Luther had been gone—should Pogo have known anything at all.

He may have washed his hands of Klaus and his behavior like Dad did, but even Luther couldn’t deny the clear morality that kept getting shoved in their faces. He feared that another funeral would come to pass sooner rather than later. Whether that funeral was for Diego—with his continued vigilantism—or Klaus—and his complete lack of regard for himself—Luther didn’t know.

He hoped he wouldn’t _ever_ have to know. Not until they were old and grey and weary of the world and its problems.

“I honestly couldn’t tell you.” Pogo interrupted him from his darkening thoughts. “He seemed well enough last I saw of him. Clearer eyed then I’d ever seen in a long time.”

“Tha—that’s good.”

“Indeed.” Pogo glanced down at the cane between his hands; letting the silence linger a moment longer. “You know, I was told by your father to keep tabs on all of you, yes?”

It was a task Pogo had happily taken; after all, Grace wasn’t the only one who cared for the children as if they were their own.

Luther nodded. “So, you kept tabs on Klaus?”

“Tried to at least.” Pogo chuckled softly. “But after his last stint in a rehabilitation center, it was almost as if he’d disappeared.” He sighed heavily.

“But he did show up eventually,” Luther stated. “But, it’s been three years. You don’t thin—”

“No,” Pogo shook his head vehemently. “I’ve been keeping tabs on possible John Doe’s picked up or found by the police. None of them have ever matched your brother’s description.”

“So, he’s alive at least.”

“As far as I know, yes.”

(***)

In the lull after their heavy conversation—long after Pogo had left—a cherished record was found. And in the solace of his own room, Luther played that record; the volume turned up to fill the halls like he used to do in their youth.

In the privacy of their own spaces, as the familiar words began to echo along the walls; the three siblings tossed their inhibitions and worries temporarily to the side, and simply let the beat wash over them.

Elsewhere, the very same song was already playing on the radio at the diner.

The restaurant was deserted—the lunch crowd having already come and gone—as Klaus cranked the volume up slightly and grabbed a hold of a laughing Margie’s hand—pulling her into dancing along with him. A protesting Vanya was pulled up from her seat by Mitchell, not too soon after; both moving to dance alongside them, while Ben and Five watched and bobbed their heads to the nostalgic rhythm of the past.

(***)

There was something off about mom.

Diego didn’t like to admit it, would deny it loudly if anyone asked, but the truth couldn’t be ignored.

Mom was different now. Her thoughts and words weren’t as well put together as they used to be. Instead, they were scattered and scrambled as if they couldn’t be processed fast enough—or couldn’t be processed at all. She repeated herself more often than not, avoided responding when certain questions were asked. Even deflecting the harder questions entirely to prevent herself from short-circuiting.

Then, finding the very object Luther was looking for, among mom’s things; only worsened Diego’s mood.

He _knew_ mom was innocent; he didn’t doubt that for a single second. That didn’t stop him from fearing _for_ her though. What with Luther’s suspicion, and trying to grasp at things outside of what the evidence had already shown him. A witch hunt would soon follow and Diego refused to let that happen.

The monocle weighted heavily in the depths of his pocket.

He refused to let mom, or anyone, take the fall for something they were innocent for.

Another knife found it’s way into the skull of the deer head.

He couldn’t understand what had Luther so obsessed, or why he was making something out of nothing

There was no mystery to be solved. There was no enemy that they would have to fight and bring to justice. There was no mission, and the team certainly wasn’t getting back together, just to follow some pointless theory that the old man was murdered in the comfort of his own home.

Reginald had died of natural causes.

_End of story._

“Oh, Good, you’re here. We’re having a family meeting.”

Diego groaned and glanced toward the archway to find Luther and Allison.

“Can’t have a family meeting without the whole family.” He egged on, watching as Allison walked toward the bar while Luther tried to make himself comfortable on the second couch. His stark transformation was still very off-putting to Diego.

“It’s half-past two,” Luther stated with a scowl; as if that would explain everything. “I doubt Klaus is coming at this point.”

“For all we know, he could be stuck in rehab.” Came Allison, as she sat in the armchair with her drink in hand.

“Or he’s working.” Diego threw in causally; knife flipping lazily in his hand as someone snorted in response.

“—I’m sorry, what?”

“—Stop joking around, Diego.”

Diego was the one to snort derisively this time, though he would happily take the distraction if it meant Luther wouldn’t say what Diego suspected was on his mind. He was not in the mood to hear it at the moment.

“Who said I was joking?”

He didn’t give them a chance to respond, springing up from the armchair and heading in the direction for the kitchen.

“Diego, wait!”

“Where are you going?”

Diego threw, “Don’t worry about it.” over his shoulder as he disappeared from view; ignoring the calls of his name and the demands that he come back, echoing after him.

(***)

It was almost three in the afternoon—with over an hour left before he had to get Klaus—but Diego _needed_ to get out of the house. Mom’s behavior was still worrying him, and there were only so many places he could go to evade Allison and Luther before he was found. Besides, even if he had to wait inside for Klaus’ shift to be over; Diego didn’t really care—Margie was a hoot and a half to talk to when the diner wasn’t busy.

He had half his body in the car when the passenger door flung open and startled him. Allison said not a single word as she settled herself in the bucket seat.

“I’m not a taxi service.” Diego griped at her.

Allison simply raised an eyebrow; passenger door shutting and snapping the seatbelt into place for emphasis that she wasn’t going anywhere.

The staring match lasted for all of a minute.

With a groaned, “Fine,” Diego slammed his own door—a little more forcefully than was necessary—and started the car; Allison grinning all the while.

“So, where does he work?”

(***)

To say Klaus was surprised to see Allison at his job, was an understatement; then again, their sister always did know how to get her way—even without the use of her rumors.

Before he could so much as greet either of them, Margie was shooing him off; relieving him of his shift early as she went to introduce herself to his sister without him. He met Allison’s eyes, who sent him an awkward half-smile that he returned before moving off into the back.

By the time he came back out with his bags, Margie had Allison completely at ease with her natural charm.

He didn’t know how Margie did it, but he was sure the woman could rule the world if she put her mind to it.

“Hey there, Ally-Kat.” He greeted, moving in for a hug which she returned. The embrace was a bit stiff, but nowhere near as awkward as he would have originally thought, as he placed his hands on her shoulders. “What have you been up to, sis?”

“I could ask you the same question.” She retorted back with an eyebrow raised.

“Questions can wait when we’re in the car,” Diego muttered as he walked past them; snatching one of Klaus’ bags as he did so. “Let’s go.”

“No way am I getting squished in the back of his clown car.” Five stated before Ben or Vanya could get the chance to speak up. “I’ll meet you at the house.” And with that, he faded from sight.

Klaus sent a look Ben and Vanya’s way, watching as the two shared a perturbed look. They could just as easily follow his example, but Klaus knew the two were far too nosy for their own good.

The quiet ones. It was always the quiet ones.

Damn gossips.

Turning back to Allison; he bowed with a flourish. “After you madame. Our taxi service awaits.”

“I’m not a damn _taxi_!”

Klaus winked and linked arms with Allison as she chuckled softly. “Don’t listen to him, he totally is.”

“Keep it up, and you can walk!”

“Keep it up, and you’re not getting a tip!” he retorted back.

“That’s it, you can take the damn bus back!”

They get a ride anyway.

(***)

The ride home, went exactly as Klaus had anticipated—old habits dying hard when it came to their dysfunctional family.

As Klaus threw his bags haphazardly on top of his bed and rummaged through it’s contents, the one thing he could say, was that Allison had changed since the last they saw each other—or at least she was making the effort to try.

The loud pitter-pattering of rain against the windows and roof filtered into his hearing as he crept down the hall with his treasures in hand—stopping first into Luther’s room when he found it empty and ending in Allison’s.

The memories he had of his time in Allison’s room, washed over him; feeling as though he stepped into a time capsule as his fingers ran over the feathered boa thrown haphazardly on the bedspread. Eyes roamed over the posters on the walls and the knick-knacks displayed on available surfaces; his gaze finally landing on the suitcase beside the open wardrobe.

“Everyone’s making their way outside.” Vanya suddenly appeared; peaking around him to see what he was doing. “You almost done?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be down in a minute.” He told her as he unzipped the lid and placed his gifts inside. He rolled his eyes at her smirking face, but oohed in excitement as he spotted the leather tasseled skirt hanging in the wardrobe. “She won’t miss this!” he stated to Vanya as he snatched it off the hanger.

“Klaus,” she chuckled despite herself. “It’s not yours.”

“She hasn’t worn this since we were teenagers!” He admonished with a pout; holding the skirt closer to his chest. “If she wanted it that badly, she would have taken it with her.” skirt still in his possession, he swiveled and exited back out into the hall. “I’m burrowing it.”

“You mean you’re keeping it.” Vanya chuckled again.

“Meh, tomato, tomahto.”

At Vanya’s insistence that there wasn’t time, he didn’t change into the skirt like he wanted to; throwing it blindly in his room on the way past. Snatching the last umbrella, the two made their way out in the courtyard where everyone was already standing in a semi-circle.

“I thought you were going to change?” Ben eyed him as Klaus fell into place beside him and Five; Vanya taking Five’s other side.

“Never said I was.” He muttered lowly; rummaging in his uniform for his last cigarette as the memorial began.

The four of them cringed collectively as the ashes plopped wetly on the ground.

Pogo stepped up to say a few words, and as they all had predicted the night prior; Diego interrupted the eulogy to add in his two cents.

“Stop talking, Diego.”

“Why should I, _Number One_.” Diego sneered as he stalked closer to Luther. “Why are you still sticking up for him? After everything, he did to you?! He couldn’t even be bothered to tell you about our sister?!” Luther faltered at that, but the heat of anger was back with Diego’s next words. “You’re so far up the old man’s ass, that you can’t admit that he died of natural causes!”

“Enough.” He warned again, but Diego never did know when to stop.

Klaus snatched mom’s arm in preparation and pulled her back; Allison taking the cue and moving along with them. Diego continued; body swiveling to face all of them at large. “To make matters worse, our fearless _Number One_ thinks one of us did it.”

“I never said that!”

“Tell me I’m wrong!” He roared back, stalking a few more steps closer to Luther.

At Luther’s hesitance, Allison gasped and Klaus narrowed his eyes in annoyed disbelief.

“Seriously Luther?” Allison scoffed out.

“Oh my god, he’s actually serious.” Ben gawked.

Diego didn’t give Luther the chance to speak up. “I don’t know what it’s going to take to get it through to you; but there is no mystery to solve, Luther. Just a bitter old man, who died alone—as he should have.” Luther growled in warning at him, Diego went on as if he didn’t hear it. “He never loved any of us. He even shipped his supposed favorite son, a million miles away—and you wanna know why?” Diego jabbed his finger into Luther’s chest. “Because he couldn’t stand the _sight_ of you!”

“And there they go.” Five uttered as Luther lunged and the brawl commenced; sharing a perturbed look with Vanya. “We don’t have time for this…”

“Can’t we just get through _one_ funeral without issue?” she muttered back as Klaus snorted darkly.

“Didn’t you hear? It’s a Hargreeves tradition.”

“What’s tradition?” Allison side-eyed him as she pulled mom back a few more steps when Luther was pushed a bit too close.

Klaus didn’t say a word; simply gestured mockingly to the fight before taking another pull of nicotine from the cigarette.

Pogo’s demands were lost in the sounds of the brawl before he’d finally had enough and left.

“Come on, big boy!” Diego crowed as he right hooked Luther in the jaw. “What’s the matter, can’t handle the truth?” Luther let his arm do the talking; catching Diego roughly in the ribs.

“And there goes Ben’s statue.” Allison exhaled in annoyance; eyes rolling skyward as she followed Pogo’s example and turned to go back inside.

“ _Thank you_ , Luther.” It wasn’t the right moment to say it, but Ben couldn’t help but crow it anyway; grin stretching his lips upward. “God, I hated that _thing_.”

“That’s no fair, mine’s still standing.” Vanya quipped sarcastically.

“Klaus!”

Five’s warning had Klaus looking away from the fragments of stone, just in time to see the knife; but it was too late to say anything as Diego threw it. Luther, thankfully, saw it coming and dodged, but his bulk made him slow; his upper arm catching against it as it whizzed by. 

And just like that, the fight was over; Luther running off and Diego taking mom back inside of the house.

Klaus took on last deep drag from his cig, as the four of them strolled over toward the pile of ash.

“I bet he’s loving this.” He stated to his siblings. “Team, at it’s best, just like old times.” He chuckled darkly as he bent and shoved the cigarette into the remains at their feet.

“Well, that went about as well as to be expected,” Ben added as Five and Vanya snorted.

“ _Best funeral ever_.” 


	15. Shadows, They Come Out to Play: Shadows, They’re Here to Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allison sighed in resigned fatigue. “Luther—”
> 
> “Someone broke into Dad’s office.” He cut her off. “They took something, Allison. Dad’s notes and research.”
> 
> “Research on what?” she asked as she glanced between the two; her spine straightening as she felt the gravity of the situation take hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (((And the plot thickens. 
> 
> We're really starting to stray a bit away from canon now. Some things have made it or stayed, but I'm truly excited to see your reactions to this chapter and the chapters to come!! 
> 
> I'm also glad I split this off from the last chapter because the mood in this piece is totally different from the mood in chapter 14.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy everyone!!)))

Klaus didn’t hang around the mansion long, quickly changing out of his work uniform and heading off for the library to continue following Five’s final theory.

They’d been going at this for five months, but just short of someone having all the nuclear codes; the only other possibility any of them could think of, is if the person they were looking for was super-powered. Which lead them to scour the newspaper clippings for anything out of the ordinary—or the possible locations or identities of the children born under the same circumstances as they had.

While they knew the mysterious birth from forty-three women, across the globe, had been the talk for years; they underestimated the sheer magnitude of that coverage.

Of the forty-three, there were twenty-five confirmed deaths—two of which died along with their mothers. If they stuck to the theory that each woman only birthed one child, and they took the seven of them out of the equation, that left them with eleven possible harbingers of death—that they knew of anyway.

Which lead to months’ worth of scouring through article upon a countless article with people who had stepped forward over the years. All discredited soon after.

 _Everybody wants their five minutes of fame_ ; he had said flippantly during the beginning.

After the introduction of the Umbrella Academy; however, those stories got significantly worse.

Charlatans of all walks of life stepping forward to claim a name for themselves. One man even paralyzed himself because he swore up and down, he could fly.

Out of all of that, they only found three of the eleven possible kids. A boy in Africa whose skin was as tough as tungsten. A girl in Laos who had stretched her arms to reach a cat stuck in a tree. A boy in Greenland who had burned down his entire orphanage—though reports weren’t sure if it was the kid himself was the fuel to start it, or if an accelerant had been used; the damage too great for even the experts to pinpoint.

That last kid had the highest probability to cause the destruction, that Five had described to them in glaring detail. 

But would it be enough to convince the others?

They kept at it, long into the evening until they were gently kicked out by Cheryl—the librarian had been wonderfully helpful these last several months. Even staying longer after hours on occasions to give him more time with the microfilm reader.

They went home, not knowing Klaus had been watched this entire time.

(***)

Elsewhere, the red book was read thrice over; chicken scratched notes written in margins and weaknesses highlighted as a plan began to take form. In the background; photos dating as late as last week littered the walls; all the faces marked off with bold red or black X’s.

(***)

Darkness closed in all around him. Cold stone seeped into the material of his clothing and chilled the skin beneath. Nails were split and bleeding at the continued pounding and clawing at a door he knew would not unlock until Reginald opened it. Wails and howls of the wraiths that couldn’t even be called human anymore, circled and heckled around him.

All of them Begging. All of them crying. All of them screaming.

All of them angry, and vengeful and horrific to look at.

All of them not understanding that he couldn’t help them, even if he wanted to.

His ears hurt at the sheer magnitude and volume of their voices. All meshing. All congealing as if they were one ugly, monstrous being.

Grey, claw-like fingers reached for him; for his face and arms as they continued to wail his name like a curse.

“ _Please_ , go away!” he begged.

It fell on deaf ears, the ghouls continuing to circle like ravenous wolves.

Something brushed up against his face.

Something _touched_ his face.

That never happened.

Ever.

He flailed back in panic when it continued to touch him; the wall of tombs behind him only allowing him to go so far as he screamed bloody murder. 

_“Klaus!”_

_“Klaus!”_

_“Save us, Klaus!”_

_“Help us!”_

_“KLA—”_

Klaus awoke in a cold sweat on the floor of his room; the blanket tangled around his legs and something pressed uncomfortably hard against his cheekbone. Disoriented, he blinked owlishly at the Walkman that was pressed up against his face before shifting to right himself as his exhausted mind woke up a little bit more.

It’s been months since he last had a nightmare. The trauma was always there in the background to remind him of the past, but he swore up and down that it was getting better. Maybe it was being back in this place that brought it on.

Whatever it was, this dream had been something new; a sinking feeling forming in the pit of his stomach despite not knowing why it was forming in the first place.

It was the Walkman’s fault.

_Yeah. The Walkman._

“You okay?”

He broke his scowling match with the damnable object and found Vanya staring back at him.

He giggled hysterically; the residual panic from the dream not quite leaving his system. “Are any of us okay?” he shot back with a bit more venom than he intended.

Vanya gave him an unimpressed look but said nothing more.

She knew not to take it personally. She also knew an apology would be the last thing Klaus would utter to anyone while he was like this.

“Time is it?” He slurred exhaustedly as he shifted to stand on shaky legs.

“It’s past six in the morning.” She answered.

Klaus nodded absentmindedly; eyes roaming over the floor for a clean shirt to throw on. “We’ll head back to the library then.”

“It’s not opened yet.”

He waved his hand at her and made for the door. “Waffles first, then off to the library.”

He was just about to descend the staircase when Five and Ben signaled for them both to come over. They were in front of the entrance leading to Reginald’s office; the sliding doors cracked open slightly and as Klaus neared, he could hear the familiar timbre and tones of Luther and Pogo talking quietly inside.

“—broken in?”

“I don’t know.” Pogo answered honestly; the exhale of a sigh reaching their ears. “It must have happened sometime between Sunday night and now.”

“And you’re sure?”

“I am more than sure; someone has gone through your father’s desk and taken something of great importance.”

As one of them moved closer to the door—the floorboards straining under the weight made him suspect Luther—Klaus backed away and proceeded to head down the stairs.

“Where are you going?” Five questioned incredulously.

Klaus didn’t answer, least he give himself away.

“Don’t you want to know what was taken?” Ben grilled as he appeared beside him.

“Five’s still up there, right?” He answered with a half-shrug as he exited out of the main entrance. “He’ll just have to relay the info.”

“Why’d you really leave, Klaus?”

Klaus rolled his head in Vanya’s direction. “Whatever do you mean, sister of mine?”

“ _Klaus.”_

He rolled his eyes. “That—” he gestured behind him as they kept walking down the sidewalk. “—will bite me in the ass later. Calling it now.”

It was Ben’s turn to roll his eyes. “You don’t know that, Klaus.”

He tsked at him; mouth opening to retaliate, when Vanya spoke up before an argument could be started. “I wonder what could have been stolen.”

“Do you think it has something to do with the apocalypse?”

“If it does; Five will tell us.”

(***)

It would _not_ bite Klaus in the ass, Five assured them later in the morning.

Pogo wasn’t putting blame on him or any of them at all, for the window in the office had been tampered and broken _into_ from the outside. Pogo didn’t see the point in placing blame in them when everyone already had the means of getting inside without force.

In regards to what was stolen, Five frustratingly relayed that he didn’t know much else, save that Pogo had said it was important documents and research notes, and that they needed to be found before it fell into the wrong hands.

_The wrong hands._

The four of them had a feeling, that whoever their mystery thief was; would more than likely be the owner of Five’s glass eye that they’ve been looking for.

(***)

As Klaus entered the library in one part of the city, Diego was just leaving the gym roughly at the same time. His mind was still processing the events from yesterday when he saw something fluttering on the hood of his car.

Knife in hand, eyes surveying his surroundings; he snatched it out from under the wipers to find it was a picture of himself by the docks last night. More alarming—than the knowledge he had been followed—was the fact his face was entirely scratched off.

The photo itself wasn’t new to him; after all, his vigilantism had left him with more enemies than he could name allies. But he’s dealt with people like this before. And as he flipped the picture over to find an address on the back; Diego was more than ready to handle this problem like he’s done to all the rest.

(***)

“Patrick, wait!”

The dial tone on the other end was the finality that Allison didn’t want to hear.

She messed up. She knows she did, but she’s been following the court order. She’s been going to all the meetings with the therapist. All she wanted to do was speak to her daughter.

Patrick didn’t have to be an ass about it.

With a heavy heart, she hung up the phone and went back to her room to pack; only, her suitcase wasn’t as empty as it should have been.

Curious, she placed it on her bed and unzipped the lid; finding a plastic shopping bag filled with bits and bobs and a silk scarf that she absolutely adored the color of. It was the stuffed tiger toy, with a note that stated: _For Claire. You got this, sis_ that brought fresh tears to her eyes all over again.

The quiet knock on the doorframe startled her as she looked up; swiping her hand quickly under her eyes to catch the tears she didn’t want seen.

“I see you, ah—” Luther gestured awkwardly to the gifts scattered across her bed; his other hand going to rub the back of his head in that nervous way he always did. “—got something too.”

“Yeah, I guess I did.” She stated in quiet awe, head shaking slightly as she placed the plushie gently back into her suitcase. “I—I wonder what happened. What changed?”

“I don’t know.”

“I mean,” she gestured to the gifts as well, confused yet touched all at once. “The Klaus I knew would never have done this; at least not without a motive, right? Right?” it’s been almost thirteen years since they’ve been under the same roof. What did she really know about Klaus—or Diego—other than what she’s seen and heard over the years? “But this—” she shook her head again, dropping against the edge of her bed as she finished. “What _changed_?”

“I… I don’t know.” He repeated; taking the vanity chair and sitting across from her. “Change is inevitable. Right?” He echoed Pogo’s words from yesterday.

“He would have told us if something happened,” she paused, the doubt clear in her voice even as she looked up at Luther for an answer. “Wouldn’t he?”

“I, uh. I couldn’t say.” He cleared his throat; his eyes catching on the parrot magnet sitting on top of the lilac scarf. “We all went and did our own things.” He shrugged. “Lived different lives.”

“We never really gave him a reason to come to us…” she admitted with a sigh, standing back up to begin packing—needing something, anything, to distract herself.

“Hey, he never gave us a reason to go to him either.” Luther tried to protest. “It works both ways.”

“Well, clearly he went to Diego.” She threw back almost bitterly.

“He was the only one left in the city that Klaus could have gone too.” Luther tried to reason again; the perturbed look she shot him—no matter how mild—bringing back memories.

A silence fell between them as Allison continued to fold her clothes; Luther’s eyes roaming over the room as more memories began to surface.

“You know, I had gotten so used to being up there the last four years; following the same routine day in and day out. Now that I’m back down here, I’m not quite sure what to do with myself anymore.”

She snorted. “I know the feeling.”

His eyes spotted the plush toy peeking out from under a pair of dress slacks. “I’m sure you’re excited to see Claire again.”

She paused for only a second, her heart panging before she continued the methodical rhythm, she’d placed herself in. “I—I didn’t think it was possible to miss someone so much.” She glanced up at him, the soft smile she sent him tinged with a sadness she couldn’t quite contain. “You know, one day I’d really—” her voice broke. “I’d really like for you to meet her—for all of you to meet her.”

“I didn’t think she—”

“Ah, there you are.” They turned to find Pogo at the doorway.

“Oh, right.” Luther startled, as he remembered why he’d come to her in the first place. “I have something to tell you. It’s about dad.”

Allison sighed in resigned fatigue. “Luther—”

“Someone broke into Dad’s office.” He cut her off. “They took something, Allison. Dad’s notes and research.”

“Research on what?” she asked as she glanced between the two; her spine straightening as she felt the gravity of the situation take hold.

“We don’t know.” He answered her honestly.

“I’ve unlocked the cabinet for the security tapes,” Pogo told them. “Maybe our answers lie somewhere in there.”

(***)

The entire day and evening at the library went about the same as it had yesterday; finding absolutely nothing by the time he was kicked out.

“I think we should go to them _now_ , Klaus.” Five ground out through gritted teeth.

“A deal is a deal, half-pint.” Klaus hissed back in equal aggravation as they crossed the street for Griddy’s.

Five growled at the name but pushed on. “This thief could be our guy!”

“Maybe, and should Luther find them, we’ll check it out.” He responded dismissively. “Until then, I’m gonna work it from my end. Getting a name would make things a hell of a lot easier—don’t you think?”

“I—” Five cut himself off with a deep-rooted scowl; wishing for all the world that he could throttle Klaus at that moment—despite Klaus being right. “One more day, Klaus. _One._ ”

“That was the plan, _Five-y._ ”

As they sat down at the corner booth; none of them noticed the man and woman that came in shortly after—seating themselves at the counter island with their backs to their table. The diner wasn’t deserted quite yet; even at this time of night, so none of them felt the need to spare the newcomers more than a glance, as Agnes filled in Klaus’ order.

If the man seemed more interested in the doughnuts and the woman serving them, no one noticed—no one save for his partner, who elbowed him sharply to pay attention.

(***)

Any footage Luther and Allison could find for the office, led them toward a dead end. Whoever it had been, seemed to have had the wits to keep their face hidden under the shadow of a hood—though Luther swore he saw what looked like a domino mask when the thief had startled at something and left.

Any footage they could find surrounding the days before and during dad’s death also yielded the same results.

That is until they found the tape.

(***)

The next day, each and every one of them was on a mission.

Klaus woke up early again and left before he could bump into anyone else in the house. Determined to get a name and his proof before his allotted time was up.

Diego—who had chased the trail long into last night—got up and continued perusing his stalker; finding yet another photo of himself on his windshield. Al’s security footage turned up with nothing Diego could use to identify the person.

Luther and Allison agreed to shelf Dad’s death for now in favor of finding the missing documents. Luther suspected Diego, presenting his evidence with the footage and mom’s strange behavior—thinking perhaps they could be working together. Allison thought he was insane for thinking it, but that didn’t stop either of them from getting Diego’s address from Pogo.

Then there was Pogo, who finally shut Grace down to fix her; for nothing was going as Reginald had once predicted. Pogo had been made to promise just before his Master’s death, that he would follow Reginald’s instructions down to the last letter. While he can say he’s kept to most of them; Pogo had a feeling Grace’s services would be needed in the future.

Some promises were simply meant to be broken.

(It’s a shame, he hadn’t had the foresight to start sooner.)

(***)

An argument between Klaus and his siblings started in the library by noon. Diego was getting closer and closer to his target. And Luther and Allison ruled out their brother as a possible suspect, the moment they found his boxing match poster.

“Told you,” came Allison’s haughty tone.

“He was wearing a _domino_ mask, Allison. I’m sure of that.”

“Then we’re looking for a copy cat, not our brother.” She stated, tone gentling but still carrying strong to get her point across. “Can’t believe Diego lives here.” She couldn’t help but add as she took another glance around the boiler room; smirking at the random odds and ends that were clearly Klaus’ doing. 

“We should find the others. We’re going to need help with this.”

(***)

The paper trail of photos and scribbled addresses finally led Diego to a warehouse just a block away from the docks that evening.

He fully expected to walk into a trap. He also half expected to find the very monocle he tossed away to turn up again—like some cliché mystery movie. What he didn’t expect was more photos and newspaper articles scattered all over the floor, all featuring not just him, but his siblings too. Five’s, Ben’s and Vanya’s blacked-out faces had _DEAD_ written in bold red, while Luther, Allison, Klaus, and himself all had _NEXT_.

This wasn’t about him at all.

This was about _all of them._

“Shit,”

He had to warn the others.

He was about to turn with the photos he already had in hand and leave when the lights suddenly went out.

“Shit!” he repeated. 

It really was a trap—not that he hadn’t been expecting it to be anything else.

A blaring siren came next, echoing and bouncing along the open space; his eardrums ringing and rattling in his skull at its intensity. He was just getting himself adjusted to the darkness around him when the flashing of bright strobe lights temporarily blinded him. 

And it was at this moment, that Diego knew he was screwed.

This was a fight for his life now. This person wasn’t just _after_ them, they somehow _knew_ them. They knew _his_ weaknesses; that he couldn’t aim for shit if he couldn’t see or hear where his target was going. 

“Come out and fight me you coward!” he yelled, or at least he thought he did. It was hard to tell over the ear-shattering whistle the alarm was making.

_He needed to get out of here._

He saw the forklift speeding toward him, almost a moment too late. 

He dove out of the way; his shoulder slamming hard into the concrete flooring. The pain didn’t stop him as he rolled and threw his knives toward the driver’s side of the vehicle just as it slammed into a support beam.

No one was in it when he checked. Nothing but a brick taped to the gas pedal. 

Shoulder definitely dislocated, his disorientation mounting the longer he stayed here; he managed to escape the building and flee before anything else could happen.

(***)

Time was up and tensions were beyond the point of high in their group.

Five had disappeared after the last argument, Vanya had gone after him, and Ben and Klaus were still at odds with each other as he made his way back to the academy.

“I don’t know what you want from me!”

“You’re so selfish!”

“Yeah, asshole? What else is new?” Klaus griped back; annoyed, exhausted, skin on fire, and itching for something harder than the cannabis chocolate he just consumed.

“And here I thought you were actually taking this _seriously._ ” Ben jabbed back; hitting right where it hurt.

Klaus finally snapped.

“You know, I never asked for _any_ of this!”

“Do you think any of _us_ asked for it?! Do you think any of _us_ asked to die?!” Once Ben got started, he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—stop. “You think I _liked_ following your scrawny ass around just to watch you throw away a life I can no longer have?!”

“I never asked you to follow me either!” he spat. “You could have left, at any time!” he threw his hands up to point at his own chest. “Calling me selfish, when all _you_ used to do was guilt trip me for seven years—and here you are _still_ doing it!”

“Cause you’re not listening!”

“ _I am_ _listening_!” he roared; scaring a few stray cats down the alleyway they were paused near. “It’s you assholes who aren’t listening!”

“We’re out of options and time, Klaus! And your egotistical ass won’t even try! It’s like you don’t even care if the world ends!”

Klaus tittered in sardonic hysterics at that.

Movements jerky in anger, he twirled away from Ben and continued down the street without another word.

“Where are you going?!”

“Back to the house!” Klaus yelled; arms flailing in frustration around him. “Where my _selfish_ ass, is taking a damn bath!”

(***)

Ben didn’t follow him back, which was fan-freaking-tastic for Klaus as he raced up the steps. He paused only for a moment as he saw Pogo by mom’s charging station—Pogo sparing him a glance as he continued with his work.

Good. 

Hopefully, whatever was wrong with mom would be fixed now.

The stress of the day still following in his wake; Klaus quickly snatched up a change of clothes and his Walkman from his room and ran himself a hot bubble bath.

This was the only upside to being back in this hell hole. Maybe in another life, his apartment would have a tub instead of a shower. But for now, he would take full advantage of using this one while he was still here.

And it was at this juncture in time, surrounded by the muscle relaxing water, with his music cranked as loud as he could stand, that the house was attacked.

So oblivious and lost in the music and peace was he, that he didn’t hear when Diego had come home. He didn’t hear as Diego bumped into the two masked intruders who had been following Klaus for the last four days. He didn’t hear the gunfire or Luther and Allison coming down from the attic to join the fight—the two having gone up there to vent when their search for Diego and Klaus hadn’t gone well. He didn’t hear as Pogo was cornered in an attempt to hide when the fighting started. He didn’t hear when Luther saved Pogo and started fighting the masked intruder, while Diego and Allison chased the other one down into the kitchen. He didn’t hear his dead siblings yelling at him about the fighting, nor did he hear as their voices grew more and more frantic.

It’s only when he saw a shadow looming over him from behind his closed eyes, that he became aware of his surroundings again.

His eyes shot open to find a man in a blue bear mask, and before Klaus could do anything—before he could so much as scream—his face was grabbed and his head was slammed back against the lip of the tub.

The last thing he saw, was Ben and Five’s ashen faces before his world went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (((oof, that scene with Ben and Klaus, that was totally off-script, but that scene refused to move on until it was written... but they also wouldn't be the Hargreeves without it right? dysfunctional idiots that they are when the fire gets too hot. XD
> 
> I also want to say, that I've never read the comics, so I’ve had to look this up and it only seems implied that the other kids didn’t make it (apparently there was a comic strip where one of the infants was shown not to have made it). While this does make sense in the long run; I’d like to think that some of them could have survived, and that some of these women decided to keep them—maybe a few of those women kept them only to surrender or lose them later on, idk. Life happens. I also know that in the comic, Luther and Five are twins. In the show, it’s not stated as of yet. So, for now, I’m going with the show where it’s not implied or referenced yet—maybe they don’t know they’re twins so everyone thinks they all were born separately lmao.


	16. Information as Valuable as Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Eastside is also clear.”
> 
> “Thanks, Jones,” Eudora replied over the radio. She sent the sudden fist that hit her dashboard a glare, before sending that scowl up to its owner. “You break my car; I’m throwing your ass in a cell.” Taking in his tense posture, she sighed. “I know you’re worried, but control your temper Dee, or you can’t tag along anymore. You nearly gave that last guy a heart attack.”
> 
> “He was suspicious.”
> 
> “He was intimidated.” She answered flatly. “You owe me for the paperwork I’m gonna have to fill out for that one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (((((Warning for torture/whump. I don't go too into detail, but Klaus is still beaten up, so please tread lightly. 
> 
> WHOOO, this chapter basically wrote itself!! I don't think I've ever knocked 5k words out in a day before hahaha. Anyway, if all goes according to plan, there should be 3 more chapters after this one. I doubt I'll get this finished before July 31st, but I'm definitely going to try. 
> 
> Enjoy guys!))))

Information as Valuable as Gold

To say either of them were bewildered by the sight they just saw as Luther ran away was a big understatement.

Diego stood in silent fury, the gaps in the puzzle of questions he had, quickly coming together as he came to his own conclusions. Just another tick to add to the overwhelming list of shit to hate about their old man.

Allison stood in silent shock, wanting to chase after Luther, but knowing her brother well enough not to try. The fact that he kept something like this from her... it hurt. She knew she had hurt him too when she had left, but she thought they had moved passed it. Apparently they hadn’t.

“Did you know?” She couldn't help but ask—remembering Diego's scathing words from the funeral.

“No,” he shot her an incredulous look; good arm moving to grip the bad shoulder he'd had to pop back in place himself.

Allison zeroed in on the action like a hawk. She opened her mouth, barely getting a word out when Diego cut her off, already moving up the stairs with a panicked “Mom” on his tongue.

“Mom's fine!” She called after him, moving to follow quickly behind when he didn't listen. “Pogo's been trying to fix her all day, she's fine! Diego!”

Diego still didn't listen, needing to see the proof for himself. And, sure enough, there she sat unmoved and unscathed by any stray bullets during the scuffle.

She wasn't dead. She was just getting fixed.

_She wasn't dead._

“Diego, why don’t you sit down.”

He scoffed and narrowed his eyes over at Allison; moving his shoulder a little more out of her line of sight. “No.”

She scowled right back. “Diego, you're injured,”

“Yeah, _my arm_ , not my leg.” He sniped. “Just need a brace. I'll be fine.”

“At least let me find and get Pogo. I think I saw him run off after Luther intercepted the one intruder.” She mused that last part mostly to herself.

“I said I'm fine.”

“Diego!”

“What are you gonna do, _rumor me_? Oh wait, you don't do that anymore.” He shot back; hitting where it hurts so she would drop it.

Her scowl turned deadly, but Allison _did_ _not_ drop it. “Sit. Down.” She used her best mom's voice; tone sharp and even, and spine straightening to make herself taller. He still didn't move; both too stubborn to yield. “What happened anyway? I don't remember seeing you get hurt.”

“We have a stalker. Or stalkers.” he amended, taking the latest attack into account; though a small part of him doubted that the two occurrences were connected.

The person he'd tracked the last couple days seemed to know exactly what they were getting themselves into. Those two idiots they just fought, clearly did not; blindsided as they were by the rest of them as they fought—almost as if they hadn’t expected them to be skilled fighters. Either someone misinformed them, or they were looking at two separate enemies they had to worry about.

“What do you mean? Stalkers? Diego, what’s going on?”

“We need to get Luther and Klaus first. I don't feel like repeating myself.” At the mention of Klaus, Diego paused. “I didn't see Klaus during the—”

“He's not home,” Allison assured quickly with a sigh. “We've been looking all day for you guys.”

“Why?”

“Long story short, someone broke into dad's office and stole important research.”

Diego perked up at that. “Research, like—notes on all of us growing up? Notes on our powers and our weaknesses—that kind of research?”

“Pogo didn't say...” she eyed him wearily. “Why? Diego, _what happened_?”

“Let's find Klaus,” he affirmed; it would be easier if they just called for a family meeting. “He could have gone back to his apartment if he's not here.”

“Master Klaus came home not long before the attack.”

The sudden voice had both of them turning to find Pogo. He had a blood-soaked rag pressed to the side of his head; regarding them with a resigned expression that had both on alert as his words finally sunk in.

The blood drained from Diego's face as he gritted out. “Pogo, where's Klaus?”

“There's something you both need to see.”

“Pogo, _where is Klaus_?” He gritted out again.

“Is he okay?” Came Allison worriedly.

“ _Please,_ just follow me.”

Diego didn't follow, nor did he wait for them. He raced past Pogo, calling Klaus' name as he made his way down the hall.

Klaus was fine. Klaus _had_ to be fine.

Diego refused to believe anything else.

_He refused to attend another funeral._

Klaus' bedroom door was open, but the call of his name from the bathroom had him rushing there instead. He heard Allison following not too far behind; both of them slipping in the water all over the tiled floor as they entered.

Luther was by the tub, embarrassment long forgotten over his exposed upper torso. He met Diego's eyes with a stricken expression, holding up a familiar water logged Walkman for them all to see.

“No.” Allison gasped behind him.

Klaus was nowhere to be seen.

Clothes and towels littered the floor—someone must have grabbed one in a hurry and knocked over all the rest. Despite that, there were no other signs of a struggle. Nothing but the blood dripping from the lip of the tub, the red liquid mixing in with the water inside and outside of the white porcelain.

“Fuck!”

A hole appeared in the wall as Diego's fist flew through the drywall.

Allison jumped. “Diego, what the hell!” she quickly stepped aside as he pushed past her with blood beginning to bubble from his split knuckles. 

“Diego!”

“Where are you going?!” Allison called after him, her concerned eyes meeting Luther’s from across the small room.

“To get some backup!”

(***)

Klaus fought as his two masked abductors tried to wrestle him out of the back of the trunk. He was disoriented, his head was pounding, his siblings were yelling and screaming in the background. He got a good kick in, hitting the smaller one in the stomach before his head was grabbed and slammed hard into the side of the trunk opening.

His world went dark again.

(***)

Eudora had just settled down with a mug of tea when a loud pounding at her door nearly had her dropping the ceramic on the floor. On alert, hand reaching for her gun, she toed her way over quietly to the door; only to find Diego through the peephole.

“Diego, it’s late—” She cut herself off; taking in his appearance as she swung the door open. “What happ—”

“I need your help, Eu,”

She couldn’t even be annoyed at the name, her worry mounting at the agitated air circling around him.

“What happened?”

“It’s Klaus, I need your help finding him.”

She stepped aside to allow him in, but he shook his head and pointed to his car. “I’ll tell you on the way.”

(***)

“What do you know about the apocalypse!?”

“What do _you_ know about the apocalypse?” Klaus croaked back; spitting blood off to the side.

He shouldn’t have bothered as a fist met his face again.

“You don’t get to ask the questions here.” The man in the blue mask stated.

“I’ll ask again—what do you know about the apocalypse?” the other one repeated.

Around him, the grey distorted images of the ghosts behind his worried siblings began to grow more and more frenzied. Faces began to appear and recede the longer he was there—his forced sobriety from the legal cannabis he usually took, causing the ghosts to push against the blockade his siblings were trying to keep around him.

As he didn’t reply once again to the question—as a fist met his stomach and doubled him over—Klaus wondered what would be a worse fate; the torture or the wailing angry spirits trying to push their way forward.

(***)

Eudora was told everything they could rely to her; Diego informing her as well as Luther and Allison of the enemy he’d been chasing after for the last two days—and the subsequent attack that followed at the docks. They didn’t rule out the possibility that all three could be working together—the four having seen the build of the mysterious person on the footage and the three agreeing that the person did not match either of the two masked intruders they’d fought.

Despite Eudora’s warning that it was too dangerous for them to get involved—that they should leave it up to her and the rest of the police force—the three of them split up into two groups anyway.

Luther and Allison went off to search possible locations out from under the police’s noses; taking one of Diego’s walkies with them in case they found anything or if they ran into any trouble.

Diego in turn, refused to be sidelined; putting up a fight that Eudora finally relented too.

With rules set in place—rules that Eudora doubted Diego would follow, but needing _some ounce of control_ in the situation—she let him tag along with her and Beeman.

(***)

Klaus lost track of time at how long they’d been going at this.

Five—the time demon that he was—did not.

It’s been eighteen hours. Give or take a few minutes.

He ached something fierce as the two continued to interrogate and torture information out of Klaus that he didn’t know much to give—not that they needed to know that.

How they knew about the apocalypse was beyond any of them, but Klaus was trying to work them just as much as they were trying to work him. Both sides seeing who would crack and slip up first.

It was getting impossibly harder to stay focused though; counting six extra ghosts meandering, muttering, and crying all around him—the other spirits still fighting to step forward and make themselves known too.

He did have to admit, that five of them were far quieter than he had expected the spirits to be; none of them reaching the volume of the angry muttering from the older woman with a silk headscarf.

He couldn’t exactly talk to her, not with the continued beatings and his mouth taped up again—curtesy of pink masked woman after his last snarky quip had riled her up real good in anger. But it was clear this older spirit had a grudge against both of them—more so the woman than the man.

(***)

“What’s your name?” Vanya finally spoke up, needing something to distract herself from the situation she was helpless to stop.

Ben and Five had said that Klaus could use the spirits to his advantage. Seeing as he couldn’t do that right now, the three of them were willing to step up to the plate.

Five and Ben were having no luck with the others, but Vanya hoped this one would be different.

“My name is Vanya.” She called again when the woman barely spared her a glance before going back to muttering angrily. “Please, we want to help; but we can’t do that if you don’t talk to us.” She gestured to the four of them; meeting Klaus’ gaze before he was blocked from view again.

This caught the woman’s attention; her eyes bouncing from Klaus to Vanya. “He can see us?”

Vanya nodded. “He can, he can also hear you. Even if he can’t speak to you right now. What is your name?”

“Zoya.” The woman finally answered as the other spirits began to wander over. “Zoya Popova.”

(***)

“Who told you about the apocalypse?”

Klaus looked up with his one good eye, the other swollen shut and throbbing something fierce, as he grinned vindictively up at the pink masked woman. “Zoya Popova.” He answered instead, delighting in the way both of them froze up. “Remember her? Cause she certainly remembers you and the bullet you put through her skull.” He cackled maniacally. “And man, let me tell you, she is _pissed_ at you guys.”

(***)

“We’ve been going at this for twenty-seven hours now. Are we sure this guy isn’t just crazy?” Hazel asked; eyeing their muttering victim wearily.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Will you guys plea— oh for fuc—just _shut up_!” they heard him burble angrily. “One at a time! You’re going way too quickly for me to understand!”

Hazel shot her another look.

Cha Cha rolled her eyes.

“He knew about Popova, and he’s on the commission’s radar for a reason,” Cha Cha responded just as wearily. “So, buck up; we’ve got work to do.”

(***)

“Diego, we’re doing everything we can.” Eudora tried to placate; watching Diego wearily as he paced back and forth outside of the empty, rundown warehouse they’d just checked; finding no one but a few homeless stragglers; one of which—she had to admit—did almost match Klaus’ description.

“We’re not going fast enough! You weren’t there for the attacks, Eu! The longer we take—” his voice tapered off, fists balling up in white-knuckled strength of fury and worry.

“Why don’t you go home, get som—”

“I’m not going anywhere, not until he’s found.”

“Dieg—”

“Not happening.”

Eudora sighed and shared a look with Beeman.

(***)

He was in the dark of the closet while his abductors caught a few hours of sleep.

The claustrophobia, paired with the helpless feeling, sending Klaus straight back to that damnable mausoleum.

He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t move.

The phantom wraiths mingled with the other victims as they circled him.

All screaming and wailing his name for him to pay attention to them. For him to hear their pleas and their stories. For him to _save them_.

“Breathe, Klaus.” He could scarcely hear Vanya say through the noise. “You need to breathe.”

He couldn’t. He couldn’t do it.

“Yes, _you can_ ,” Ben told him; understanding the gagged muttering of words through the tape.

Klaus tried. He really and truly did. Trying desperately to slow his rapid-fire breathing through his blood clogged nose and failing; feeling as though he were breathing through the world’s tiniest straw.

The wails continued; ricocheting around in his head as the darkness continued to bleed into stone instead of drywall.

“Klaus, in and out, keep going.”

No, he… he couldn’t. He couldn’t do it.

The panic skyrocketed as the images began to distort and dance in his tunneling vision. Gone was the closet. Gone was his siblings.

All that was left was the darkness of grey stone walls and a cold so bone-deep that it hurt.

All that was left, were the demons of the past, ripping into his flesh for attention.

He couldn’t breathe.

_He couldn’t breathe._

(***)

“We’re getting nowhere.” Hazel sighed from his spot on the rim of the tub. “It’s been two days. We sure this guy knows anything?”

“He knows something, alright.” Cha Cha answered. “He’s just not spilling.”

“Nothing we’re doing is working on him!”

“Then we’ll need to get creati—”

“Which one of you is Hazel?”

They stared at each other for a long moment, before exiting the bathroom; both forgetting to pull their masks down as they stared at the man in suspicious befuddlement.

Klaus stared back at them, grin still firmly in place despite the warning bells screaming in his head. He knew from his training as a kid, that a person’s chances of survival in a hostage situation, were slim to none the moment you saw their faces.

Oh well.

He might as well go out with a bang.

“Oo, you guys are scarier without the masks.” He giggled, the pain and exhaustion making him delirious—half his body and nerve endings on fire while the other half was pin-prickle numbness.

Cha Cha slapped him upside the head and knocked the grin right off his face. “What did you say?”

“I said, you guys are—”

Another hit, this time to his already bruised ribs as she grabbed his face and forced him to look at her. “Stop playing games.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize we were playing any in the first place.” Klaus cooed back. “We really need to work on our safe word here,” he giggled again as she retracted her hand as if she’d been burned.

The third punch came quickly after.

“Klaus,” Ben sighed out.

“Just stick to the plan.” Five added grimly.

What good would any of it accomplish? No one was coming for him. And even if their siblings knew he was missing; they’d never be able to find him in time.

The ghosts still shifting in and out all around him, had only been helpful to a point.

Thanks to them, he knew that his captor’s names were Hazel and Cha Cha. That they were people hired to assassinate and procure information—using any means necessary—by an organization that called themselves the Commission. They were an organization out of time; a group that killed others that threatened to change the timeline.

Klaus knowing about the apocalypse apparently threatened that timeline.

The fact that they hadn’t killed him immediately, only showed that this _Commission_ , was just as clueless about all of it as the four of them were.

Funny how beings out of time, couldn’t seem to figure it out either.

The spirits' voices rose as Hazel and Cha Cha moved away to murmur among themselves.

Klaus’ head was going to explode if they didn’t shut up with their stories.

“Klaus,” Vanya moved to stand in his line of sight. “I know they're loud, but we need you to stay focused.”

“Little hard to do, sis.” Klaus hissed out.

“The plan,” Five pushed. “Just stick to the plan.”

 _Yeah, yeah, Five,_ he thought tiredly. He’d been tortured for far too long now; you would think that would afford him and his scrambled brain _some_ slack from his siblings.

“Jan Mueller, gives his thanks, Hazel,” Klaus called out to them, which silenced the ghosts and his captors all at once. The vindictive grin was back on his face—though weaker than the last he wore it, exhausted as he was at this point.

Cha Cha narrowed her eyes at a frozen Hazel. “What’s he talking about? Who gives his thanks?”

Klaus tittered joyously. “Oh, you don’t remember, Jan says that’s a damn shame considering he remembers you two. Swiss Alps ring any bells?” they continued to stare at him, Klaus watching as the memories surfaced on Hazel’s face while Cha Cha struggled to recollect it. “Jan and his wife were coming back from a ski trip.” He pressed onward, tsking his tongue, and shaking his head. “How rude of you both to ruin such a _nice vacation._ ”

Cha Cha lit up as the memory finally slammed into her. “I remember. Forward. Reverse.” She glanced at Hazel, who had yet to look away from Klaus—the frown on his face deepening.

Klaus tittered again. “Yeah! That’s it! Jan Mueller.” He stared straight back at Hazel, ignoring the haunted look in the man’s eyes as continued. “And his wife escaped down an alleyway; didn’t she, Hazel?” if possible, Klaus’ grin turned even shaper—rivaling Five’s own shark-like smiles. “Jan says to say thank you.”

“What’s he talking about?” Cha Cha asked again, tone darkening.

“I—I don’t know,” Hazel answered her quickly.

Well, that wouldn’t do.

“He was so grateful to you _, Hazel_ , for having _spared his wife_.” Klaus turned back to Cha Cha to really nail this performance home, swollen face contorting into something as innocent as he could possibly make it. “You know, there may be hope for him yet. Don’t you think?”

“Bathroom, now!”

The smirk was back as he watched the two retreat; hearing off to the side as one of his siblings high-fived another spirit.

“Nicely done.” Ben praised.

Klaus dropped the smirk and sagged tiredly in the chair he was still tied in. “Thank you.” 

He hoped that was enough to rile them up for phase two.

If not, Klaus couldn’t say he didn’t put in the effort.

And if they killed him…

Well, he’s given the whole: help stop the apocalypse, a good old try.

He’s had a good run anyway.

(***)

They were back out on the streets after changing shifts—having finally convinced Diego to rest, even if for only a few hours.

So far, they found nothing. No clues. No possible sightings.

Nothing.

The north side of the city had just been cleared by Officer Murphy, when Officer Jones’ voice crackled over the police scanner.

“Eastside is also clear.”

“Thanks, Jones,” Eudora replied over the radio. She sent the sudden fist that hit her dashboard a glare, before sending that scowl up to its owner. “You break my car; I’m throwing your ass in a cell.” Taking in his tense posture, she sighed. “I know you’re worried, but control your temper Dee, or you can’t tag along anymore. You nearly gave that last guy a heart attack.”

“He was suspicious.”

“He was _intimidated_.” She answered flatly. “You _owe me_ for the paperwork I’m gonna have to fill out for that one.”

(***)

Luther and Allison were having no luck on their end either. Hitting up the shadier parts of the city where someone could easily be smuggled in and out of.

That also meant that anyone they talked too “didn’t see anything” either.

Neither wanted to admit how time seemed to be running out. Their training reminding them that the first forty-eight hours were crucial in a missing person’s case.

“We’ll find him,” Luther assured not only her but himself.

“Let’s hope it’s not in a body bag.” She answered back as they continued investigating the latest run-down building.

“Hey, don’t say that.”

She couldn’t help it. Her nerves were already fried enough as it was with her own problems. Adding everything else that’s happened recently on top of that, made everything so much worse. Besides, when did anything in their family ever work out in their favor? That was just how the Hargreeves luck worked. So why would it change now?

“We should start checking motel’s next; this is getting us nowhere.” She recommended after their search came up empty once again.

“I’ll let Diego know.”

“Yeah, the more people they can send out the better. Tell him we’ll stay and check the motels out here.”

(***)

Klaus just had to push his luck, didn’t he?

Taping his mouth shut was getting old at this point as he struggled against them. But it was no use.

He glared with his one good eye as the two bickered over in the corner; catching bits and pieces of the conversation that his siblings filled the gaps of.

“It’s high time we evened the playing field out. Let’s see what we can find on this guy.”

“You’re crazy if you think I’m going back into that house.”

“We don’t need to. Freaks like this guy—claiming to be psychic or seeing the dead—they always turn up in the papers. We’ll just have to find it.”

“Can we get food while we’re at it?”

That last part Klaus didn’t need to be relayed to him, already struggling in his seat as Hazel made his way over.

“No, No! Not again!” his words were muffled and his struggling was in vain.

In the dark of the closet, as his breath began to quicken and his vision began to tunnel, he barely heard his siblings around him or his captors leaving out of the door.

(***)

“Diego, that’s not how any of this works, you know that! We’re gonna need a warrant!”

“I know a guy; he can probably get the papers pushed through faster,” Beeman muttered as he wandered off back to the patrol car to make the call—anything to get away from the bickering pair.

“Even if he’s successful, it’s still gonna take a while, Diego.” She told him.

“Why can’t you just do it my way for once.”

“Because you asked _me_ for help. So, we’re doing it _my_ way.”

(***)

They’d been gone for a while now, Vanya mused to herself.

It was just them again, Hazel and Cha Cha’s victims disappearing the moment they had left.

Vanya could tell Klaus was stuck in another one of his episodes; eyes glazed over with terror as he whimpered and begged underneath the tape. It was as he began to hyperventilate again, air blowing in and out of his nostrils in rapid succession, that one of them spoke up again to calm him down.

She couldn’t really blame him though. Even dead, Vanya couldn’t stand being in the closet for longer than a minute or two; constantly stepping out to prevent the claustrophobia from taking hold of her also.

As of now, she had half her body through the closed door; the sensation unpleasant, but nowhere near as unpleasant as being cramped in around her three brothers.

“Breathe, Klaus.” Vanya uttered, bending to try and meet Klaus’ line of sight.

It wasn’t working. Wherever he was, he still couldn’t hear them.

“Klaus!” Ben yelled. “Snap out of it!”

“Yelling isn’t helping, Ben!” Vanya cut in; voice also raised but nowhere near the volume Ben had used.

“ _Nothing_ is helping.” Five snapped. “At this rate, he’s going to pass out again. Just let him.”

“Real nice.” Vanya quipped sarcastically.

Five shrugged, but Vanya wasn’t fooled. She could see he was worried too.

“Klaus!” Ben tried again.

There was no reaction, his breathing the same, his eyes still seeing something none of the rest of them could see.

Then, “You’re all assholes,” reached their ears; the words muffled by the gag, but not hard to fill in the blanks.

So, he wasn’t as far gone as they originally thought.

“Yeah, and you’re an asshole that needs to breathe.” Five quipped back; moving into Klaus’ line of sight and cutting off Vanya’s. “I don’t know where you keep going, but I promise you, you aren’t there.”

Klaus said something back, but this time the words were unintelligible as he rambled.

The door to the motel room creaking open, had what little control Klaus had, spiraling back out of control.

“It’s the maid,” Vanya relayed from her continued position half in and half out of the tiny space.

Klaus’ head whipped around at that, screaming as loud as he could, but the woman dragging in her cleaning equipment, didn’t even flinch.

“She’s got headphones in.” Vanya realized. “She can’t hear you.” The vacuum turning on only drowned Klaus out even more.

Klaus didn’t listen, continuing to thrash and scream and bounce in his seat; desperate to be heard and desperate to be freed.

Vanya was fully in the closet now, joining her brothers and trying to get Klaus to save his rapidly dwindling energy.

But nothing they did or tried was working.

What would it solve anyway?

The three of them were essentially useless. They couldn’t talk him down from his panic attacks. They couldn’t free him. They couldn’t get the maid's attention. Or go off and tell their siblings where they could find Klaus—if they were even looking for him in the first place.

They couldn’t do _anything_.

The frustration and helplessness came to a head, groaning out her frustration as she flung her arms out—a habit picked up from spending so much time around Klaus. Vanya fully expected her hands to go through the drywall and the door—like they always did—so imagine her surprise when her hands slammed into them instead; the door pushing slightly out with the movement. 

She gasped in shock.

Ben and Five, didn’t notice —both having their own episodes as Ben’s hand made contact with Klaus’ shoulder and held rather than going through.

There was a tingling sensation that ran over all of three of them, like insects crawling over skin. A power that none of them had ever felt before, traveling like an electric current riding through a wire. For Vanya, the sound around her began to amplify as it increased, almost as if she’d been underwater this whole time. For Ben, his connection with The Horror grew stronger; the monsters slithering and pushing against the barrier that kept them contained. For Five, his skin sparked with the familiar pull of time and space that he hadn’t felt since he’d been alive.

Klaus didn’t even notice, still panicked as he tried to knock his chair through the doors so the maid would see him.

Almost as swiftly as it came about, it started to fade; Five snapping out of his shock immediately as he felt the tingling sensation beginning to bleed out of him. Before it could completely diminish, he barreled bodily into Klaus, making contact for a split second, before he was falling through his brother and the closet door.

But thankfully, what he did manage was enough.

Between Five’s momentum and Klaus’ desperate bouncing, he teetered precariously on two legs of the chair. In the next moment, Klaus was toppling sideways through the door; head slamming into the dirty carpet and scaring the maid right out of her own skin. Klaus squirming to free himself snapped the maid out of her shock; dropping the vacuum and rushing over to help him.

“What just happened?” Ben asked, still staring down at his hand as if he was seeing it for the first time.

“I don’t know.” Five answered truthfully, just as baffled by the turn of events.

Klaus was like a newborn deer as the maid pulled him unsteadily to his feet; muscles and limbs sore from being seated almost the entire time he’s been held here. While modesty was the last thing Klaus cared about, he was still grateful for the duct tape holding the towel around his waist; his hands and fingers sore from abuse, and unable to grasp anything without causing sharp spikes of pain to shoot up his arms.

When the maid realized the cord for the phone was missing, she proceeded to usher him out of the room; but Five stopped him.

“Klaus, the briefcase.”

Right, the briefcase.

They didn’t know much about it, only that one of the ghosts said they saw Hazel place it in the air vent. Stating that the two were always carrying it around with them. Five speculated that it may contain more information they would need on the commission, and possibly new information on the apocalypse that they could use to stop it.

With a groaned “Fine,” and the maids perplexed help; the vent cover was pulled from the wall and the briefcase quickly snatched up in Klaus’ hands; hissing out his pain as his sore fingers bent and reopened scabbing wounds. 

By the time they made it down to the lobby, the front desk clerk shepherding him into his office; Klaus had no strength left in his legs as he collapsed in a heap in the chair provided for him.

The moment he was left alone while the maid ran to get the first aid and the clerk called the police; the others pounced.

“What was that?” Vanya queried with clear confusion.

“ _How_ did you do that?” this came from Ben.

“Have you been able to do that _this whole time_?” Five demanded.

Klaus blinked uncomprehendingly at them all. “What?”

“Are you serious?” Ben huffed.

Klaus blinked again, tittering nervously. “What did I miss?”

“Klaus,” Five started slowly, realizing that Klaus wasn’t joking. “You made us corporal.”

Klaus full-bodily laughed at that, before cringing inward as his ribs screamed in protest.

“Klaus, he’s telling the truth,” Vanya assured gently.

“Impossible.”

“Believe it, Klaus, we all felt it,” Ben stated.

“ _I was the one_ who pushed you out of the closet.” Five added.

Klaus shook his head, not caring that the world began to spin the moment he did. “No. No, no, no. I did that on my own. I fell.”

“You didn’t fall, I pushed you.” Five corrected, watching as Ben tried to touch Klaus’ shoulder only for it to go right through him.

Klaus shivered and hissed. “Stop that!”

“Klaus—”

Klaus held the briefcase up in clear deflection; too much to unpack at the thought of there being more to his powers than any of them originally suspected.

“Shall we crack this open and see what’s inside?” He asked, jiggling the thing slightly in curiosity.

“Yeah, go ahead.” Five consented; knowing they wouldn’t get anywhere with Klaus right now and dropping the subject—for now. 

The three crowded around him, curious to see what kind of information could be held in the case. With a tired grin, Klaus clicked the clasp open and in a blink of blue, he and the briefcase were gone; leaving the three of them behind in stunned silence.

“Way to go, Five.” 

“Shut up, Ben.”


	17. I Ran Up That Hill; I Took The Risk, and I Let Myself Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Where do you think he came from?”
> 
> “I don’t know, Denise. For all we know, he could be a spy?”
> 
> “He came out of nowhere, Robert! In a flash of blue light with nothing but a bloody towel!”
> 
> “Settle down Kenneth. I’m still your ranking officer.”
> 
> “Seriously?” Denise snorted derisively. “We’re really pulling the rank card? We’re dead for crying out loud.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((((The chapter I have been dreading has finally arrived. Please don't come at me with pitchforks, it had to be done. You know it did. LOL
> 
> This chapter pays homage to chapter 10, but unlike chapter 10, it is not fluff, so fair warning in advance. 
> 
> Enjoy guys!))))

The pathway up to the encampment was a minefield in and of itself, tripping over another tree root as Klaus followed sluggishly behind the rest of the soldiers.

It was still hard to see out of his one good eye, the other still swollen—though nowhere near as swollen as it had been thankfully. The sweat from the heat clung to his pores, to his clothes, to his hair, to _everything._ Not to mention the salt from the perspiration stung his open wounds and made him feel like he was on fire.

He was beyond exhausted. He was beyond cranky.

_He was beyond done._

He tripped again.

He had half a mind to just allow himself to fall, no matter the consequences. The forest could swallow him up for all he cared at this point. Instead of falling to the wet forest floor; however, a hand on his shoulder steadied him from what would have been a painful descent. He turned, half expecting to find Dave, but instead found the brown eyes of a young soldier.

“I remember my first time traveling through the jungle.” The kid said. “It gets easier.” he eyed Klaus up and down, his brow furrowing as he added. “At least, it will once you’ve had a chance to heal.”

“I’m fine,” Klaus responded, shrugging the kid's hand off as they continued to march on.

The universe proved him wrong as he tripped again; his legs and muscles screaming in over-exertion.

He told his legs, and the universe, where it could shove it.

The kid snorted. “Course you are.”

Klaus ignored him, even as the bubbly kid matched his gait to start walking beside him.

“When did you start your tour?” He asked. Klaus not answering the question, didn’t seem to deter the kid. “I started mine six months ago, just a month after my eighteenth birthday actually.”

As the kid continued to ramble, talking about home and his aunt, who apparently took care of him since he was three; Klaus finally spared him another glance.

His head was a jumbled, scattered mess of thoughts and worries and sounds. Mind half on what had happened at the motel and half on what would happen the moment he reached the camp. The five dead soldiers following behind their procession were still bickering loudly among themselves. The nightmarish wails of the dead, echoing through the trees, was giving him the headache of the ages. His skin itched and crawled with the burning desire to fall back into old habits and make everything go away. He didn’t know how to work the damn briefcase and get himself home.

All of that, paired with this kid, obviously trying to make a friend—Klaus wasn’t having a good time.

“Will, lay off of him a bit,” Dave spoke gently from behind them.

“Sorry, just looked like you could use a distraction, pal.”

Klaus didn’t need a distraction. His idea of a distraction, he couldn’t necessarily use anymore.

No, Klaus didn’t need that.

What he needed were peace and quiet—and no, they were not the same thing, thank you very much.

He needed a _damn nap_.

(***)

“Was that what I think it was?” Ben asked slowly, still reeling from what he’d just witnessed.

“Time travel.” Five confirmed.

“He’ll be back though, right?” Vanya pipped in with concern.

“I—” Five cut himself off.

The truth of the matter was, Five didn’t know. He didn’t get a good look at the briefcase before it and Klaus had suddenly blinked out of time. But he knew it was definitely a time portal; the familiar sound and look as the light had encased Klaus reminiscent to that of his own—only more refined.

“Maybe.” He finally settled on, not even giving the embers of hope fuel to burn.

The briefcase must have been how Hazel and Cha Cha traveled around all this time, and he was an idiot for not realizing that sooner. Now Klaus was stuck god knows when, or where, and they had three days left until April 1st to stop whatever was coming.

The odds were not in their favor.

If he were being honest, they never had been.

“So, what do we do now?” Vanya voiced the question on all of their minds.

Just short of finding and following behind the rest of their siblings, there wasn’t much they _could_ do.

(***)

The tent was silent after the nurse left, but Klaus could still hear the guards stationed at the flap. At least he thought he could hear them; how anyone could hear over the five gossiping spirits surrounding him, Klaus would never know.

“Where do you think he came from?”

“I don’t know, Denise. For all we know, he could be a spy?”

“He came out of nowhere, Robert! In a flash of blue light with nothing but a bloody towel!”

“Settle down Kenneth. I’m still your ranking officer.”

“Seriously?” Denise snorted derisively. “We’re really pulling the rank card? We’re dead for crying out loud.”

“I’d believe he’s an alien before I’d believe he’s a spy.” The younger one cut in before an argument could form—they’d already had three of them before Klaus even made it to the damn camp.

“You’d believe anything, Scott.”

“Shut up, Andy! Do you have any better ideas to explain it?”

“Not a clue.”

“That’s what I thought,” Scott responded, acting for all the world like the eighteen-year-old Klaus could tell that he had been. “Maybe he’s from the future?”

“Now you’re just reaching, Scott!”

Klaus nearly snorted—nearly. Best to let the ghosts think he couldn’t see or hear them for a little bit longer.

“What, it’s a possibility!”

Scott was definitely on the nose with that one. 

“Either way, he’s gonna have to come up with something or they’ll face him against the firing squad, soon enough.”

Klaus froze.

Death had never been a foreign concept to Klaus, always toeing, and blurring the line. Always surrounded by it, and while he had feared the ghosts that came with death; death itself had always felt more like a friend.

Had this been any other time—had Klaus not known what the future would hold; had the last six years not happened, things would probably be different. But Klaus _did_ know what was coming. Klaus _needed_ to get back home to _stop_ said something. He couldn’t die now. Not here, where his siblings would never know what became of him—not unless he somehow became a ghost too.

“If I hadn’t seen it for myself, I’d’ve said he was a prisoner of war.”

The cogs turned in his head at that. The figurative lightbulb above his head going off as a story already began to weave itself to life in his mind’s eye. All Klaus had to do was sell it.

And sell it he did.

He’d even say it was his best performance yet.

(***)

The maid and the front desk clerk were rightly shocked when they came back to the office not long after Klaus had disappeared; the three of them watching everything unfold like the silent witnesses they were and always would be.

As the two freaked out, the front desk clerk heading back to the phone for 911; Vanya turned to her siblings.

“Are we just going to ignore what happened back there? And I don’t mean the time traveling.”

“No,” Ben answered quickly and vehemently. “That definitely happened.”

“We can’t disregard that.” Five added. “It’s clear there’s more to Klaus’ power than any of us realized.”

“Did he ever show signs before? What changed to bring it on now?” Vanya spoke quietly.

“Klaus has been on drugs for nearly seventeen years—sure he doesn’t take the hard stuff anymore, but he’s still on them,” Ben explained.

Five nodded. “In the last forty-eight hours he’s been as sober as he’s ever been. So, either the drugs really do inhibit his abilities, or he’s never been placed in a situation stressful enough to awake them.” Ben opened his mouth to refute that, but Five talked over him. “I know Ben. _I’m not saying that_. But our powers didn’t really grow to what they were until _after_ we hit puberty. So, whatever happened to any of us before that, wouldn’t have had as big of an impact.” He clarified. “And by the time Klaus hit his, he was already breaking into the liquor cabinet and smoking weed to cope.”

As five grumbled that he may need to go back to the drawing board about everything he thought he figured out on ghosts themselves; Vanya hesitated with the question trying to push itself out to be heard.

“Di—did the sound— _amplify_ for any of you?” she cut Ben and Five off half-way through their debate.

Five froze and turned to her with a calculating gaze that Vanya tried not to squirm under “How do you mean?”

The look he shared with Ben, didn’t help.

“I’ll take that as a no,” she answered slowly.

“What did you feel?” Five tried again.

“I felt—” she trailed off, struggling to put the event and the feelings into words she could describe. “—A current. Like electricity.” At their nods and murmurs of agreement, she continued. “I don’t know how else to describe it, but I know I felt it building, so did the sound. It was as if I was—like I was underwater all this time. Even now, I feel like that—like I’m back underneath the waves.” She glanced at them, the question and doubt clear on her face as she read their expressions. “Isn’t it the same for you?”

“No,” Five answered her as Ben shook his head in the negative.

None of them knew how to digest that information as the distant sirens echoed into their ears.

(***)

The wails of the dead could be heard all around Klaus as he lay awake on his cot.

It’s been a whole month in this godforsaken jungle, and nothing he’s been able to do, has worked in his favor.

He tried ignoring the spirits—though that never really worked out well for him in the past. He tried meditating—using what little he remembered from rehab; when he’d taken the class out of sheer boredom. He tried banishing them back to the outer ring with the rest of the grey scaled blobs, but more and more just kept rebelling against him; pushing and making their way forward.

His powers were still a mystery that he was terrified to explore, even more so now after what happened with his siblings back at the motel.

It was almost enough to drive him back to the drugs—of which it seemed there were _plenty_ to be found around here.

He didn’t give into the temptation, no matter how much he desperately wanted too.

His mind circled back to the motel.

What had happened back there couldn’t have been him.

…Could it?

He’d never been able to do it before. So why now, after all these years? It just _had_ to have been their doing and not his. Right?

The ghosts fed off of energy, Ben had discovered that fact the moment he could change his bloodied appearance at will. Five had been the one to prove it with logic and science. And in a world chock-full of energy, Klaus was a beacon, a sun that burned far brighter than anything else. For all he knew, his siblings could have stolen more of his energy than they ever had before.

It wasn’t _his_ doing. _It was theirs._

_Right?_

He tossed and turned for a long while, sleep still not coming to his distracted mind. The woman screaming in the corner of the tent, didn’t help either.

He wasn’t the only one annoyed with the spirits around him, it seemed.

“Geez, we died too. You don’t hear us complaining.” Andy huffed from somewhere nearby.

“How you’ve put up with it this long, Hargreeves, I’ll never know,” Robert grunted out his agreement.

Klaus snorted. The woman in the corner screamed louder in retaliation.

It was going to be a long night.

“Hey, you awake?”

He rolled to find Dave sitting up from his cot.

 _Maybe,_ he amended, _it wouldn’t be a long night after all._

(***)

The entirety of the motel was in utter chaos as cops filtered in and out of the office, and the room where the scene of the crime took place.

“Where is he?”

The three perked up at the sound of Diego’s voice, moving to find him and his cop friend, Eudora, entering the small lobby.

“I don’t know, but he was here, not too long ago!” the clerk answered quickly, shrinking slightly at Diego’s intimating scowl.

Eudora cleared her throat and stepped in front of Diego; blocking the man’s vision of him as she offered a friendly smile. “Please excuse him. I’m Detective Patch,” she offered her hand and shook his. “I know this all must be very confusing, but do you mind telling me everything you know?”

He told her what he could, about what details he could remember of the people who rented out the room; the maid telling her side of things as well when prompted. As the maid got to the state of what Klaus was in when she found him, Eudora’s partner, Beeman, had to escort Diego out so she could keep the line of questioning up in peace.

“Do you think he may have left?” Eudora asked both of them even as the doubt flickered on her face, side-eyeing the only window in the office that even a kid couldn’t fit through.

“There’s no other way to get out of this room.” The clerk told her. “I stepped away to help Mary find the first aid supplies in the staff room, but that was only for a minute at most. I had sightlines to the lobby the entire time.”

“The entire time?”

The clerk amended with a shake of his head. “I might have turned away for a second, but—” he panicked. “You don’t think he could have been taken again, do you?”

She didn’t answer him, but Five noted she didn’t deny it either.

The three wished they could be heard by the living, more so at that moment than they ever had before.

“You didn’t hear anything strange did you?”

“No.”

“No sounds of struggle? A car driving off?”

“No, nothing.”

“Then he could very well have just walked off.”

“How?! Someone as injured as he was, could not have walked out on their own. We had to help him get in here!”

Ben snorted derisively at that, Five and Vanya turning to stare at him as the detective and the witnesses continued to talk in the background.

“You weren’t there for the years when it was really bad.” Ben simply answered their unasked question.

He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t tell them, how he had come to resent Klaus a little more each day that their brother chose to piss his life away instead of getting himself help. He didn’t tell them, how he thought Klaus had died after his last stint with a drug dealer had gone wrong—the one Five had been witness too, nothing compared to that time.

Sure, things were better now, and his and Klaus’ relationship wasn’t as strained; but those first seven years had been brutal, to say the least.

“I remember one winter he had a bone fissure in his leg.” He continued. “Asshole went three whole days limping around on it until he finally listened to me and got help.”

“We didn’t know, Ben.”

He huffed. “Yeah, cause Klaus never wanted any of you to know.”

By the time Eudora and her team were done, the sun had long since set on another day.

“He’s out there somewhere, Dee. He’s alive.” They heard Eudora try to assure him as they headed back to her car.

The three of them followed silently behind.

There was no point in staying. Not when they weren’t sure if Klaus would ever come back.

They just hoped their three, clueless siblings, would be enough to stop what was coming quickly upon the horizon.

(***)

The second time Klaus’ powers spiked; it marked a little over three months since he landed here.

It all had happened so quickly, that he had chalked it up to it being a fluke.

Or rather, he resolutely _ignored_ it once again.

Klaus, Dave, Michael, and James were in the middle of a _very intense_ card game—a very intense match where Klaus was losing his last pack of smokes against Michael, and Klaus wouldn't stand for it—when Randy, Chuck’s second-in-command, suddenly found himself sprawled on the ground in confusion. Over Randy stood an equally confused Robert.

To this day, Randy still couldn’t tell you want he walked into, but he _could_ tell you it was colder than ice—something he thought he’d never feel in the humid heat of Vietnam.

(***)

It was supposed to be a routine sweep of the surrounding area. They’d done it countless times already and always came back with nothing.

Figures that this time would be different.

“Incoming!” Kenneth yelled at Klaus from the very front of their party. “I spot twenty hostiles!”

Klaus relayed the information immediately. The others, thankfully, didn’t question him. He’d never steered them wrong before, somehow always knowing where the mines were or where the enemies would pop up; so, why would they start doubting him now?

Within minutes, the underbrush was utter chaos as gunfire echoed among the foliage. Orders were shouted and men ducked and fired wherever they could. Klaus was no exception; ducking behind tree trunks and using Denise and Robert’s positions to pinpoint where he needed to aim and shoot.

It wasn’t the first time he’s had to take a life, but that didn’t mean their screams wouldn’t haunt him for the weeks and months to come.

(***)

Diego was no longer allowed to tag along with Eudora as she and her team continued to look for Klaus the next day.

Despite her warning, it didn’t stop the three of them from going out to continue looking on their own. Luther had opted to stay home, in the hopeful event that Klaus returned, but also to gain as much information out of Pogo as he could about the missing research. Ben in turn opted to stay behind to listen.

This left Allison and Diego—with Five and Vanya following behind—to scour the city together. They checked local hospitals despite knowing Eudora would be doing the same on her end. They checked Klaus’ apartment, Allison barely having the time to take a peek into the window that was Klaus’ life; before they were moving on to the next possible place or person Klaus could have gone too. When Margie and Roxie turned out to be a dead-end as well—the last either had seen of Klaus being before the funeral—they were out of options.

They left the diner, but only after Allison’s heavy assurance that she would call when they found him.

As they walked down the street for Diego’s car, neither realized they were being followed.

And it wasn’t by their dead siblings.

(***)

The second time his powers manifested, it happened while Klaus was asleep.

The nightmares had gotten worse over the months; the wails of the wraiths mingling with that of piercing gunfire. The cold stone and damp decaying air shifting to that of humid heat and damp forest earth.

At one point his nightmares had reached their peak; tossing and turning and crying out in his sleep that awoke some of the other men inside of the tent.

The five, as well as those alive, watched confusedly as Klaus’ fists glowed the barest hint of blue, disappearing just as quickly as he shot awake with a scream ripping itself raw from his throat.

Klaus didn’t believe any of them, when they told him the story later the next morning.

“Klaus, I know what I saw,” Dave told him gently.

“And I’m telling you, you’re wrong.”

(***)

By now, Klaus had gained a bit of a reputation despite his best efforts to blend in.

It wasn’t uncommon for people to step forward and claim they could tell the future; stories of oracles, psychics, and spirits painted across all of history. It was a running joke in the unit that Klaus was one of those oracles; despite Klaus vehemently denying it each and every time one of them brought it up.

_“What’s my future hold, Hargreeves?”_

_“Will I finally get the gal?”_

_“How many kids you think me and my wife will have?”_

He was getting _real_ sick of it.

But it was the only other explanation the others could think of. How else were they to explain the unnatural phenomenon that seemed to circle around Klaus?

(***)

Luther finally managed to corner Pogo in the kitchen, having given him his space as he worked on Grace earlier.

“Pogo, I need you to tell me, what it was that was stolen from dad’s office. How is it that guy knew how to fight Diego?”

Pogo sighed and joined Luther at the kitchen table; Grace’s quiet humming ceasing from where she worked at the stove.

“Some of the research taken wasn’t important, I will admit.” Pogo started, a bone-tired ache settling in his bones. “What was taken, was the book your father was always writing in.”

“Why didn’t you tell me from the start?” Luther demanded.

“Because your father forbade us from telling you. He never wanted _any of you_ to know of what he wrote in there.”

“Well, Dad’s gone,” He stated firmly. “And there are people targeting us. I think that constitutes you telling us, don’t you think?”

“Indeed.”

By the time Pogo gave the cliff-notes explanation, Luther and Ben—seated on the table unknowingly beside them—was dumbstruck.

Luther wasn’t stupid. He knew their father cataloged their training; always being seen, their entire life, writing in that damn red book. He just never realized the extent of those notes that were taken.

But something was off.

He couldn’t understand why, never having the reason to doubt before, but there was something Pogo wasn’t telling him.

He could feel it.

“Is there anything else that dad hid from us?” he asked; his tone even with his warning.

“Not that I’m aware.”

For the first time in Luther’s life, he didn’t believe him.

(***)

“Hargreeves!”

Klaus paused in his chat with Jack; spinning around only to startle and fumble as Sergeant Chuck tossed something at him.

It was a set of keys.

He stared at them, the question on the tip of his tongue but the Sergeant had already moved off before he could say anything.

“Is he expecting me to drive the tank?” He asked bewildered, voice raised an octave higher than usual.

“I think those are keys to the jeep” Jack chuckled and patted his back hard, nearly sending Klaus face-forward in the dirt had he not repositioned his weight.

With a shake of his head, Klaus thrust the keys at Jack, who stared at his hand bemusedly. “I don’t drive.”

“Un-real!” Jack exclaimed; still not taking the keys. “You gotta be pulling my chain, man.”

“Nope,” Klaus answered as he thrust the keys at Jack again.

He still didn’t take them, belly laughing as he called back toward his brother, James, and Dave. “Ya hear that? City boy here don’t know how to drive!”

Klaus scowled; he knew the basics of driving, thank you very much. He just didn’t _like_ to drive.

“Will you just take the damn keys?!”

As Jack and his brother continued to laugh at his expense, Dave stepped forward with a small smile; hand extended out for Klaus to hand them off to him.

“Come on, Hargreeves. I’ll teach you the basics.”

Someone help him, why couldn’t he say no to this man?

(***)

Despite the hope that they wouldn’t find him there, that they wouldn’t have to worry about relapse on top of everything else; Allison and Diego checked Klaus’ old haunts.

They didn’t find anything.

It didn’t make them feel any better.

(***)

“What’s your family like?”

Klaus startled out of his thoughts and turned to Dave.

The two of them were out on patrol tonight, and on top of that, it was raining; the water seeping into their clothing and weighting their booted steps down in the mud as they walked.

“Assholes. The lot of them.” He simply answered.

Dave laughed. “That all?”

Klaus shrugged with a secret grin on his lips. “What else is there to tell?”

“Come on, Klaus, that can’t be it.”

“I don’t know, Dave; it just might.” He shot back, grin still on his lips.

They continued to banter quietly under the rain until, finally, Klaus relented and filled the space with some of the better memories he could remember of his childhood.

(***)

The warning from the ghosts, came too late this time, as their camp was attacked late into the afternoon.

They were already a third of their men down—since the scouting party had yet to return from that morning.

They had no choice but to grab what they could and flee, far too many VC’s for their unit to take on.

In the ensuing fight for their lives, Klaus nearly forgot the briefcase sitting under his cot, and almost received a bullet to the neck as he went back for the damn thing.

He kept it close by, at all times, after that.

(***)

Why was this the luck their family always seemed to be dealt with?

They’d been at it all day, and half of the night; both of them exhausted and running on fumes as they checked the last location either of them could think to find their missing brother. It was deserted in this part of town, nothing more than a few stray stragglers and plenty of dark corners and alleyways for someone to hide in.

Vanya didn’t like it. Five didn’t either.

Skilled fighters their siblings may be—neither doubting that fact—but that didn’t mean they needed to be out with only each other as back up. Whoever was after them, wasn’t after them for the fun of it, they were out for blood.

Their family was already down more than half their numbers. They didn’t need someone else joining their ghostly ranks tonight.

“Let’s head back; maybe he came home while we were out.”

“Luther would have radioed.” Diego refuted.

“His apartment?”

Diego conceded as he walked off ahead. “We’ll swing around again and check.”

It was that window of opportunity, that gap made between them, that someone took advantage and sprung out from the shadows of the alley.

“Allison!” Vanya cried out uselessly, helpless as she and Five watched the hooded figure surprise and throat punch their sister before she could react.

Despite the gap made, Diego wasn’t too far away as he spun and tossed his knives at their attacker. They struck true, the assailant crying out in pain as he began to flee back down the alley he’d sprung from. Diego nearly gave chase, readying more knives in his good hand, but Allison wheezing and thrashing on the ground for air, had him aborting his pursuit to help her instead.

Unbeknownst to the two of them, a ghost with their skull bashed in, stayed behind to talk after Five spotted and prompted him to do so.

(***)

It was almost seven months into his accidental stay in the past, when the ambush happened.

It was late at night, or early in the morning depending on who you really asked. Klaus had managed to find a rare night, where his sleep wasn’t plagued with nightmares, when he suddenly awoke to Scott yelling by his bedside.

“Get everyone up, now!” Scott demanded. “You need to get moving! VC’s are coming! _A lot_ of VC’s are coming!”

Klaus was already up and moving before Scott could finish; shaking the nearest person awake and yelling. “Hostiles incoming!”

“They’re coming from the East and South sides!” he heard Denise relay from outside of the tent. “I estimate five-ten minutes before they get here!”

It wasn’t long before the camp was awake and alive in pandemonium, men packing and driving important equipment and supplies out while the rest stayed behind to buy them some time.

Soon enough, the fight came to them.

A hailstorm of bullets, the deafening flashbangs of the grenades and the pain-filled screams of the wounded, became the soundtrack of the night as they fought to keep this territory in their grasp. To push back and prevent the VC’s from inching that much closer into the surrounding cities.

Just when they thought they had the upper hand. Just when they thought they were pushing them back, shit ultimately hit the fan.

“Will!” Scott cried out, the closet ghost to the young soldier’s location.

“Klaus!” Denise also cried from behind him, the fear in his voice mingling with Dave’s and James’.

Everything after that seemed to happen in slow motion.

Klaus couldn’t ignore the tingling sensation coursing through his veins this time around. Couldn’t ignore the weight of a cold hand on his shoulder as he was ripped back and away from stray shrapnel. Couldn’t ignore as, fifty some-odd-paces to his right, Scott tackled Will to the ground.

In the end, Will lost his left leg, and Klaus got sliced on the right side of his ribs.

But if it weren’t for Denise and Scott—if it weren’t for his powers fluctuating when they had—neither of them, would be alive.

(***)

“Luther!” Diego bellowed as he slammed his way through the door with Allison leaning against his side. She was breathing better then she had, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still struggling—her lips tinged a scary blue.

Luther was already there waiting for him in the foyer, after being warned via the walkie.

“What happened?!” He called over his shoulder as he scooped Allison up and raced toward the infirmary with Diego hot on his heels.

“It wasn’t the two assholes from the other night. It was our _thief_.”

As Grace and Pogo steered them away from the table while they worked; Diego and Luther strayed to the corner where they could help if needed; both relaying what they knew to each other.

Off to the side, Five, Ben, and Vanya, watched on helplessly.

(***)

“So, you can always see them?”

Klaus nodded at Dave, humming in answer as Dave gently played with the sweat curled strands of his hair.

It felt surreal to finally have someone from the living actually believe him for a change. It felt even more surreal to find a romance in the middle of hell; but when _wasn’t_ Klaus’ life hell?

“Yeah, Scott says hi by the way.”

Dave froze. “Scott? As in Scott Maigers?”

“The one and only.”

“How—” Dave trailed off, trying to find the right words. “Are there more of— how many from our unit?”

“Four others. But I’m told you only know Scott.”

“Yeah, I knew him.” Dave’s voice broke a bit. “Kid didn’t make it long. Having Will around—he reminded me a lot about him too.”

The two took a moment of silence at the mention of Will.

After losing his leg in the ambush a month ago, the infection that came after had nearly killed him. Thankfully it hadn’t, but it still had been a _very_ close call. While Klaus hated to admit that he missed the kid's never-ending rambling; he was glad Will was honorarily discharged and sent home. He knew Will would never be the same, _none of them_ would ever be the same, but at least Will was still alive.

He still couldn’t quite believe that he had done that.

That _his_ _powers_ had done that.

(***)

Tomorrow, they were headed for the front lines.

“You scared?”

“Are you?” Klaus shot back. Just because he wasn’t afraid of death, didn’t mean he wanted to lose what he had gained so quickly after finding it.

What could he say? He was a selfish person; never claiming to be anything different than who he always was.

“I’m terrified.” Came Dave’s reply.

They couldn’t promise each other tomorrow. Nor could they promise each other a future, for war never gave anyone any guarantee. The only thing they could do, was live in the here and now. All they could do, was swap dog tags, and steal a few moments to themselves outside of the camp perimeter.

(***)

This wasn’t happening.

_This wasn’t happening._

“Dave!”

He was dreaming.

_He had to be dreaming._

“Dave! Medic!”

Please don’t let this be real.

_This couldn’t be real._

“I need a medic!”

Warm, crimson blood oozed out and over his hands as he continued to press against the gaping wound at Dave’s breast bone.

“Dave, please.” He begged on a broken sob. “Please, stay with me! Stay with me, Dave!”

His words went on deaf ears.

Dave’s baby blues stared sightlessly up at the night sky.

Something in Klaus died along with him, the sobs tearing from his throat as he pressed his sweat and dirt covered forehead against Dave’s stomach.

So lost in his grief, was he, that Klaus paid no attention to the tingling feeling that raced like electricity through his limbs. Nor did he feel as they centered themselves at his hands where they were still pressed firmly to Dave’s chest. He remained oblivious to the ghosts that shimmered in and out of view around the battlefield—all of them glowing in an eerie silver-blue light. Nor did he see as they headed their way toward the opposing side.

He remained deaf to the confusion it all brought to the soldiers around him. Remained deaf to the screams that rung out from the enemies; several of them being torn to shreds in vengeance by the ghosts going in and out of corporeality.

“Klaus, you’re still in a war zone!” Scott’s voice was the only thing that seemed to penetrate the fog surrounding him. “Klaus!”

Why should he keep fighting? What was the point when his heart was already dead inside of his hallow chest?

“Damn it! Klaus, _snap out of_ —” Scott’s voice was cut off by Kenneth and Andy yelling their warnings from across the field.

“Grenade!”

“Klaus, move!”

“ _Shit_ , James!”

Klaus snapped his head up at that, the voices all jumbling and speaking at once, to find James raining cover fire beside him—having made his way over during the battle to assist him without Klaus even realizing it.

In the split second that Klaus saw the glint of the grenade metal soaring through the air, he didn’t think. Instinct took over as he yelled for James to get down, diving and body-slamming James to the ground behind the blockade with his hand thrown out—as if that would stop their inevitable deaths.

Only… _it did._

A shockwave rippled out of his palm, sending both him and James skidding slightly in the mud with the magnitude of its power.

When the blast of heat and fire never came; the two of them rose their heads over the blockade just as the explosion was heard coming from across the field.

“What the—” James stammered out in confusion. “How the—”

Klaus wasn’t paying him any attention, his eyes zeroing in on his shaking, blood-stained hand.

The turmoil and madness only got worse around him.

With his senses over-stimulated, and the onset of shock from both Dave’s chilling body laying behind them, and what he had just done—Klaus fled the battlefield.

Had that—was that—had that been telekinesis?!

Did he have _telekinesis_?

His mind wouldn’t allow him to linger on that; Dave’s lifeless body flashing to the front of his mind once more. The full-body sob that rattled Klaus’ bones, nearly sent him sprawling to the ground.

He ignored the calls of his name. He ignored the active battle still going on as bullets grazed and whizzed past his retreating form. He ignored Denise and the others as they yelled and spat _deserter_ at his back.

His blood coated hands found and latched onto the briefcase, and without thinking—without care if he landed somewhere far worse than a war zone—he clicked the clasps open and disappeared in a flicker of blue.

The last thought on his mind before he felt the painful pull of time, was the hope that it would take him back to where it all begin ten months prior.


	18. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The painful pushing and pulling of time that sizzled against his skin and shoved its way up his brain, lasted for all of a second.
> 
> In a blink, Klaus found himself on the ground of the office he had disappeared from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((((I have nothing to say that won’t spoil anything right now… my thoughts will be at the end XD but just know, that this story went from a 2-chapter countdown to a 4-chapter count down, because the characters kept adding more and more chaos (so it’s safe to say that I’ve failed in finishing this story before Season 2 drops tomorrow). I’ve been writing on and off for years… I should know better by now XD lmao. 
> 
> Anyway Enjoy!)))))

It was a hyoid fracture.

The prick had hit his sisterhard enough in the throat, that he had caused her _damn hyoid bone_ to fracture.

Five seethed with a fury that burned in all of them when they had heard that news.

Pogo and Mom had long since kicked Luther and Diego out of the room; needing the space to perform the necessary surgery to correct it and prevent Allison from suffocating slowly to death. Pogo had warned Diego not to stray too far, in the event that they needed a blood transfusion—the only one out of the two with blood not tainted—then promptly shut the door in both of their faces.

The three of them didn’t linger in the room after that, following behind Luther and Diego out into the hall where the two remained in waiting. Another hole was added to the house; this one curtsy of Luther, who paced the floor like a savagely caged animal—Diego wasn’t too far behind on the spectrum.

No one said a word; the distant sound of the grandfather clock chiming, the only thing to echo in the space around them.

“You were supposed to have her back!” Luther broke that silence; shoulders tense as he rounded on Diego.

Diego jumped back and shifted to a fighting stance; knife in his good hand. “Do not twist and blame this on me!” He seethed, ready to spring as Luther continued to pace. “I did have her back, Luther! But our guy got the drop on _both_ of us! That’s not my fault just as much as it’s not Allison’s!”

Five huffed. Couldn’t they see their arguing wasn’t helping anyone or the situation out? What happened, _happened_. They couldn’t go back and change it now.

“We’ve finally got a name.” Five filled Ben in when Luther and Diego’s arguing continued tiresomely in the background.

Ben stared at him; eyebrow raised for Five to elaborate.

“The thief—our apocalypse bringer. His name is Harold Jenkins.”

“How do you know—”

“His father was following behind him all this time.” Vanya cut in; her eyes never straying from the closed door. “He told us everything—at least, everything he could.”

Five grimaced.

 _More like yelled,_ but Five wasn’t going to bring that up; that detail not imperative enough to share.

“And get this, Harold has a glass eye.” Five added. “It’s definitely him, Ben. He’s our guy.”

“How does he cause the apocalypse? Is he one of us?”

“He isn’t, he’s just an average joe.”

Vanya snorted scornfully at that. “Average joes don’t go around targeting people,” she muttered, mostly to herself.

“So how does he—”

“We don’t know.” Five answered on a long exhale—the habit never dying off, even after six years. “But, it’s him alright.”

As the arguing between Luther and Diego finally quieted down—both of them now slumped against the wall to await the news—Five and Vanya told Ben everything they had learned from Harold’s father.

All they needed now was for Klaus to return so _everyone else_ could be informed too.

(***)

How the two found themselves in this situation, Hazel would never know.

They had gone to the library, after finding nothing of use at their target’s apartment—the place filled to the brim with random odds and ends, that if they had missed anything, they wouldn’t have been able to tell. It was at the library that they found the book written by one Vanya Hargreeves, which in turn was how they learned about the rest of the freaks they had fought that night.

“Our target talks to ghosts, it explains everything!” Cha Cha had told him, as they had gone to Griddy’s—Hazel’s favorite spot the moment they had landed here in this time—for a pick me up.

But then Hazel had noticed the television screen from over Agnes’ shoulder as they chatted. Noticed what was clearly their sketched faces plastered all over the news.

Which led to where they were now, with the two of them on the run.

They had long since ditched their current mode of transportation for another, not taking any chances that the license plate and car model could have been spotted and documented.

They didn’t have the briefcase anymore; Cha Cha taking the risk to go back for it, only to find it gone. They had lost half of their weaponry—the rest being in the trunk of the car—to the police raiding their motel room.

Cha Cha was beyond stressed, blaming and taking it all out on him more than usual and Hazel…

Hazel was just done.

Had been for a long time now. But all of this shit just took the cake.

The world would end in two days and they were truly and utterly stuck here in the middle of it. The Commission had gone radio silent. There were no new messages. No new orders. No backup.

_Nothing._

They were on their own and Hazel was absolutely over it.

He had gone _long enough_ living an unhappy life. Had put up with more crap then he ever felt necessary for one person to take.

Enough was enough.

On the run or not. Should he get caught or not. Hazel was going to make these last two days count. He was going to go out and actually live what little of his life he had left.

He just hoped Cha Cha would forgive him as he fled with the car, late into the night.

(***)

The painful pushing and pulling of time that sizzled against his skin and shoved its way up his brain, lasted for all of a second.

In a blink, Klaus found himself on the ground of the office he had disappeared from.

Blankly, still in the dazed fog of shock--eyes seeing yet staring unseeingly—he took in the four grey walls surrounding him.

He was back at the motel.

He wasn’t in Vietnam.

He was back at the motel _alone._

And Dave was long gone.

Out of his reach with the gap of time wedged firmly between them.

Numbly, Klaus got up on shaky legs, feet moving on autopilot as he pushed through the office door; startling the desk clerk as he did so. He ignored the man’s voice, ears still ringing with the sounds of screams and explosions. He ignored _everything_ as he pushed out of the motel with the briefcase still held in a white-knuckled grip against his chest.

He felt nothing of the early dawn breeze, billowing, and chilling his exposed skin. He felt nothing of the wounds from bullets that had grazed him as he had fled the battle.

All he felt was the blood that itched at his skin. The blood on his hands a burning reminder that Dave was gone. _His Dave_ was gone, and the damn briefcase had brought him back to 2019 and not in that damn tent where it all had begun.

His hope that he could start over, that he could save Dave, was crushed like the grass beneath his feet as he cut across the motel lawn.

He had half a mind to try again, but it was clear that the briefcase was unpredictable. Even if it worked like a yo-yo, going from point B and snapping back to point A; who was to say that point B wouldn’t be somewhere far worse? Who was to say that he would land back in Vietnam and not in the middle of the bubonic plague outbreak, or the Salem Witch trials?

He would never see Dave alive again.

The last image Klaus would ever have left of Dave was his sightless, loving blue eyes staring up at the stars they used to sit beneath and admire; stealing small moments and kisses from under their protection.

With an animalistic roar that broke into a gut-wrenching sob—as the image of Dave lying prostrate in the mud with a gaping wound in his chest, assaulted him once more—Klaus threw the briefcase as far as he could hurl it. It sailed through the air as he dropped to his knees, the case landing in the grass as the sobs and despair overtook him.

The world pressed inward around him and carried his grief for everyone nearby to hear.

(***)

The past four days had been exhausting, and if Ben had a body to feel it, he knew he would have conked out days ago.

As it were, he didn’t have one.

But Luther and Diego did.

Neither of them had moved from the hall; neither of them giving in to the fatigue that was clearly weighing them both down after living the hell that was the past week. At one point, the three of them had thought Diego might succumb to it on his own, but then Pogo had come out and asked for some of his blood, the sight of the needle had caused Diego to drop—and the rest was history.

Which found Diego back in his old room after Luther had grudgingly carried him there.

The moment Allison had come out of surgery, though, was like a sigh of relief.

She was still in critical condition; Mom had warned Luther, but her chances of survival had significantly climbed higher than they had been beforehand.

She was to remain in the infirmary, hooked up to a breathing tube that was breathing for her while her swollen throat healed. She would also be where Mom could keep a close eye on her condition should it worsen.

Luther had stayed in the room, and ultimately had fallen asleep in the chair by her side; head tipped downward in such a way, that it would be one awful crick in the neck the moment Luther were to awake next.

In the quiet of the house that settled afterward, Ben still couldn’t quite wrap his head around everything he was told. None of them could wrap their heads around it.

And none of them wanted to accept the fact that they almost lost both Allison _and Diego_ , when it was clear Diego hadn’t even _seen_ the gun Harold had been holding, during the attack—the street just dark enough to hide the glint of the metal. It was because of Diego’s quick reflexes, that unknowingly saved them, that stopped Harold from getting the chance to pull the trigger.

Worse still, not only was Harold out for blood, he was _toying with them_ like a cat who cornered a mouse. Not to mention, Harold’s father only gathered half of what his son was planning; the rest still a complete mystery.

“So, let me get this straight.” Ben tried again. “Harold has a grudge against us because he wasn’t born special like us?”

“Yes,” Five nodded wearily.

“He killed his father when he was thirteen and went to prison.” There was a story there, Ben could feel it. It was clear Harold’s father hadn’t told Five and Vanya everything. “And has been plotting his revenge on Reginald and us, all that time?”

“You got ectoplasm in your ears? I’ve already told you this.”

“Shut up, Five, I’m processing!”

Vanya snorted in the background; the memory of when they were kids and the two would argue over theories and books, surfacing to the forefront of her mind as they bickered.

Harold’s father had answered a lot of their questions, but in the process, had only created more. Who was the guy Harold repeatedly spoke to on the phone, in a foreign tongue? What plans did Harold—a normal, albeit psychotic, guy—have up his sleeve that would be the key to the world’s destruction?

None of it made any sense.

The grudge against them _, fine_ , Ben could accept that; despite it being extremely stupid and cliché—like a murder mystery gone horribly wrong. But what did Harold have against the rest of the world? Better yet, what kind of influence did he have that could cause a pandemonium of that magnitude?

_It just didn’t make any sense._

“What’s the pla—”

A familiar pull, cut him off. His eyes locking with Five and Vanya as they felt it too. In a blink, all three of them disappeared, allowing that tugging to guide them until they appeared out on the streets where Klaus was slowly making his way back to the mansion. In his arms was the briefcase, though clearly something inside of it was broken, the metallic rattle of something lose jingling with each step he took.

But that wasn’t important.

What _was_ important was something being different and _off_ with Klaus.

For starters, he had dried blood on his hands and the front of his… army fatigues. Secondly, he was clearly injured, some of the blood still wet as his shirt and vest clung to the wounded skin underneath. Thirdly, there was a vacantness to his red-rimmed and blood-shot eyes, clear signs that he had been crying, as he walked by them without even acknowledging their presence.

What happened to him?

 _Where_ did he go too?

 _How long_ has it been for him?

It wasn’t even the clothes, or the blood or the vacantness that made him different, but his physique. Klaus had always been lanky limbs with lean muscle, but their brother had clearly filled out some. The muscles of his biceps slightly larger and more prominent, his shoulders a little broader. If that wasn’t a dead giveaway to just how much time had passed, then the fresh—but still clearly healed—tattoo on his upper arm, did the trick.

The three shared worried looks as they followed behind him.

“Klaus?” Ben tried.

There was no reaction.

“Klaus?” Vanya tried this time, stepping in front of him only to shiver as he walked through her without him even realizing he’d done so.

They’re three blocks away from the mansion, when he finally, _blessedly_ , noticed their presence.

“Oh, hey.” His voice was oddly calm—extremely out of place considering the sorry state he was in.

“Klaus, what happened? Where did you go?” Vanya asked as Five added quickly after.

“Or should we saw when?”

“1968,” He uttered; his tenor wavering slightly. “Smack dab in the middle of the Vietnam war.”

He didn’t elaborate or divulge any more than that, no matter what questions they threw at him. They left it _, for now_ —that list growing exponentially—knowing that he wouldn’t answer them unless he absolutely wanted too. Instead, they caught him up to speed on everything else that had happened while he’d been gone.

As they got to Allison, he froze up; shoulder smacking violently into an innocent bystander at the sudden stop he made in the middle of the sidewalk.

Before either of them could say more—that Allison would be okay—he took off in a dead sprint, leaving the three of them no choice but to follow behind.

(***)

He raced up the steps and barreled through the front doors; passing by a startled Pogo on his way to the infirmary. Bursting through that door also—and ultimately waking Luther, despite not realizing he was there—Klaus froze in the doorway; his eyes immediately finding and landing on Allison’s prone figure.

The white bandages wrapped around her neck, were a stark contrast against her dark skin, but nothing was more startling then the respirator she was hooked up too.

_She was alive._

Her chest rose and fell with the machine that breathed for her, _but she was alive_.

“Where have you—” Luther cut himself off as he really took in Klaus’ appearance.

But Klaus paid him no mind, ducking and squirming away from Luther’s grabbing hands as he passed him; settling the briefcase absentmindedly on the first available surface as he got closer to his sister’s bedside.

Diego rushed in not too soon after—having awoken due to the commotion— and cut off any question Klaus would have asked.

“Where the hell have you been! We’ve been looking all over for your—” the rage fizzled out, his voice tapering to a halt. Klaus was nowhere near as bad off as the maid had let on, but he was still clearly injured. “Wh-w-what happened?” there was something off. There was something very off.

“Klaus, you need to tell them.” Five pushed.

He knew that. He really did.

Just…

Just not right now.

His thoughts were still scattered, his mind's eyes still flashing images of jungle and battle and… and Dave. The phantom screams and helicopter blades mingled with that of the rhythmic humming of the respirator keeping their sister alive.

“Klaus?”

The dried blood itched and burned at his skin. He needed to get it off.

He needed to get that _reminder_ off.

“Klaus, you’re injured.” Luther tried to steer him toward a spare bed to get looked over, but Klaus easily ducked and weaved his way out of his reach.

“Oh?” he uttered absentmindedly; nothing but honesty in his voice as he made his way out of the infirmary. “I didn’t notice.”

“Klaus!”

He continued onward, their calls going ignored as he found sanctuary and solace in the bathroom across from his old room.

He locked the door for good measure this time around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did look neck injuries up for the last chapter and this current one. And I have found that, while rare, it is possible for someone to survive a hyoid fracture.
> 
> go figure, the more you know I guess.


	19. Don't Stop Now, We Can't Afford to Lose This Race

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “She might be in the stables,” Luther spoke lowly. “You can’t hear anything can you?”
> 
> “No, nothing.” It was quiet, no muttering, or wailing of the dead in the house at all.
> 
> “She’s outside!” Vanya appeared suddenly and franticly. “Take cover!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (((So, I'm gonna say this outright, I still haven't seen season 2 because I don't really want anything from there to mingle with anything I have going on in here. All of this was plotted out to completion long before Season 2 aired, so if you happen to see anything that is similar or different to the show, please don't spoil any of it for me. Thank you kindly in advance!
> 
> Anyway, enjoy guys!)))

With Allison still knocked out from the sedatives, the six of them found themselves all sitting, scattered across the living room instead of the infirmary; save for Diego, who refused to believe that Klaus could handle bandaging _his own damn wounds_.

“I’m fine, Dee!” He griped; squirming and swatting at Diego’s hands as Diego tried to lift his tank top to see the patchwork of dressings beneath it. “I’m a perfectly capable adult!”

Ben snorted from his place by the pillars. “Since when?”

Klaus hissed at Ben, who grinned mockingly back. Klaus’ actions; however, caused Diego to withdrawal his hand quickly—most likely thinking he must have brushed up against something sore to hurt him.

 _Meh_ , Klaus mused.

Let him think that.

“Come on, Klaus, we don’t have much time left.” Five griped; seated on the back of the sofa beside Luther.

“What’s going on, Klaus?” Luther cut in before Klaus could even begin, his patented leader voice firmly in place. “What happened?”

_What’s going on?_

Ha! Plenty was going on. _Too much going on_ , and not enough time anymore to fix it.

Klaus sagged in his seat on the other couch, hiding the wince as his ribs pulled with the motion.

This was the moment he’d been dreading.

This was the moment that would either make or break what tentative trust they had in him.

So, he started off small, hoping to ease into the conversation before attempting to drop the bomb that was the apocalypse. He told them what he knew of their masked attackers, Hazel and Cha Cha; how the two worked for an organization that called themselves the Commission.

“How do you know all of this? Did they slip up?”

“No _,_ ” he told Luther.

That had been the problem. No matter which buttons he had pushed, they hadn’t slipped up once. They were trained and pretty damn good at what they did for a living.

With a bit more hesitance, he told them of how their victims manifested to him, and how he had learned everything he knew from them. He glossed over how he had escaped, not necessarily lying about how it had all happened, but not necessarily revealing it either. He fell out of the closet and was found by the maid, that wasn’t a lie. They just didn’t need to know that Five was the one who pushed him—or that Klaus was having difficulty controlling powers he never realized he’d had.

With even more hesitance, he revealed where he had gone after the police had been called.

To say there was an uproar at that, was an understatement.

“Bullshit, Klaus! Where were you?” Came Diego aggressively. “We looked all over the place for you, you know that?!”

“You didn’t relapse, did you?” Luther questioned; a hint of anger and disappointment warring with itself in his tone.

Klaus winced and glanced at Vanya seated on the arm of the sofa near him. If this was their reaction to him time-traveling, he didn’t want to see their reactions when he told them about the rest. The shit storm from six years ago was enough to last a lifetime; he really didn’t want a repeat of it.

“I’m not lying.” He told them, bending to pick up the briefcase.

He froze at the next words that were uttered into existence.

“Can’t you be serious about things for once in your goddamn life?”

The mask of calm he’d been wearing this entire time—the front to hide just how broken, and exhausted, and utterly _done_ he was with everything—slipped. With it, came a mounting frustration and anger as he snatched up the broken briefcase and slammed it down on the coffee table between them.

“I’ve never been more serious, then I am right now.” He hissed, gesturing wildly to the case. “That is how Hazel and Cha Cha have been able to travel between different points in time. That—” he gestured to it again. “—is how I landed myself smack dab in the middle of a goddamn war!”

He quickly snatched the case back when Luther went to grab it. Sure, it was broken, but Klaus wasn’t willing to take that risk. He didn’t need someone else getting sent back to god only knew when or where and getting stuck there.

“You really got yourself stuck in the Vietnam war?” Diego asked.

The disbelief was clear in his voice, but not nearly as potent as it had been before. Diego hated to admit it, but it did explain everything. The blood on Klaus’ hands when he had returned, the army fatigues, the flesh wounds, the new tattoo that Diego definitely knew hadn’t been there before.

It was all starting to add up.

A glance at Luther showed he was coming to the same conclusion.

“Yes!” Klaus threw his hands up in the air.

“If the briefcase brought you there, why didn’t you just come back?” Luther grilled with confusion.

“It had dropped me into the middle of a _war zone_!” He repeated with a bite. “For all I knew at the time, it could have sent me somewhere far worse if I had tried using it again!” he groaned and flopped back on the couch.

“But you did use it, or you wouldn’t be here.”

Five snorted. “Obviously.”

“So, what happened to make you use it when you had?” Luther continued to push.

Klaus instinctively reached up to the dog tags around his neck—to Dave’s dog tag’s around his neck—and squeezed the metal hard enough to hurt in his closed fist.

“I figured out how to work it.” he lied; Dave’s death still too fresh to want to talk or think about. “I think it yo-yo’s you through different points of time—at least, that’s what happened when I used it to come back here.” He told them, this one the full truth. “I used the damn thing and it snapped me right back into the office I had left behind, ten months ago.”

“Ten months!” Diego cried. “Are you kidding me! You were there for ten months!”

“Yeah,” Klaus giggled uncontrollably—what little sanity he had left, slipping just that bit farther south. “Which also means, I’m older than you.”

Luther—still trying to wrap his head around all of it—continued the line of questioning before Diego could open his mouth to snipe back.

“Why did Hazel and Cha Cha attack the mansion in the first place?”

Klaus sighed.

He couldn’t keep putting it off, and Five looked like he’d have a ghostly aneurism if Klaus kept beating around the bush any longer.

“They were after me.”

This caused two sets of groans that grated on Klaus’ nerves.

“Old drug dealers?”

“No!” Klaus seethed. “Will you let me finish!”

Circling back to the Commission, and ripping the whole thing off like the bloody band-aid it was, Klaus spilled everything.

He told them how Hazel and Cha Cha had been ordered to take and question him—by any means necessary—to gain information.

“What information?”

“About how I know of the apocalypse.”

“Oh, not this again.” Diego groaned. “Don’t tell me you still think you’re seeing Ben or Five too.”

Klaus bit his tongue—literally—the coppery tang swimming over his taste buds as he forced himself to push on. Getting them to accept Ben, Five, and Vanya’s ghostly existence wasn’t the end game here. They literally had all of today and tomorrow to stop Armageddon.

They were running out of time.

He repeated what he had said previously, and continued moving forward with the information he held. He told them about how the Commission seemed just as clueless of who or what would cause the apocalypse.

Otherwise, they would have killed him on sight.

“Why?”

“Because anyone who messes with the timeline, gets offed.” He answered Luther; pulling a face and running his own finger across his neck for added emphasis.

“And yet you wonder why no one takes you seriously.” Ben scoffed at him.

Klaus quickly flipped him the bird and continued on; ignoring Luther and Diego’s confused looks at the sudden exchange at seemingly empty air.

Now that the apocalypse was out on the table, everything else quickly and easily tumbled after. With Five and Vanya’s help, he revealed their mysterious thief’s name—one Harold Jenkins—who was the key to somehow wiping all life out as they knew it. He relayed everything Harold’s father knew. How Harold had been obsessed with them growing up, how he apparently shared the same birthday as them, and therefore thought he was just as special. Harold had felt that he deserved a place among their rank, and when he obviously didn’t get it; he snapped. He killed his father—Ben still thought there was a larger story that Harold’s dad hadn’t revealed—went to jail, and had been plotting his revenge on the Umbrella Academy ever since.

“I’ll head over to the police station; see if I can get my hands on Harold’s case file. We won’t give this bastard a chance to attack us again.”

“Okay, then we’ll see if we can find Hazel and Cha Cha on our end.”

Klaus perked up at that.

Did they—did they actually believe him? Had he been stressed out for nothing?

“So, you guys believe me?” he couldn’t help but ask; awestruck as he was.

Diego glanced at him and cut Luther off before he could speak. “I—” he paused as he thought out his next words carefully. “I believe, that _you_ believe there’s an apocalypse coming.” Seeing the frustrated and resigned expression contorting Klaus’ face, he quickly appeased. “Listen, we’re going after these guys, anyway. So, whatever they have planned; if we catch them, then it won’t happen. Right?”

_What?_

Klaus stared in disbelief.

“I agree. Catching these guys is our best option. We still using the same radio channel?” Luther questioned Diego.

What the hell.

_What. The. Hell._

Klaus didn’t need to be _appeased_ with false support. Yes, they were going after Harold and those Commission lackey's, but they weren’t going after them for the reasons they should be.

Harold was somehow the god damn starter of Armageddon. A _normal_ guy, who could possibly have help working with him, and stopping that wasn’t their main concern?

Why was he as surprised as he was?

He knew, from the very beginning, that they would take whatever he said with a grain of salt. _He knew_ , and yet he had allowed the hope to burn anyway. Now that hope was just ashes at his feet.

They really didn’t believe him.

The world was _literally_ going to end sometime tomorrow.

And they didn’t believe him.

As Luther and Diego planned their next course of action, Klaus stared slack-jawed at his other siblings. Vanya was tense from where she still sat on the arm of the chair near him. Ben was grumbling, though Klaus couldn’t make out exactly _what_ he was grumbling, and Five…

Five was livid.

Even from across the room, Klaus could see the tick of Five’s jaw working as he ground his molars together.

Five had lived _and died_ in the apocalypse and no one, other than the four of them, was taking it seriously.

“Told you this would happen,” Klaus muttered to Vanya; the only sibling close enough to hear him.

Guess they were on their own then.

With a sigh Klaus stood, taking the briefcase with him only to be stopped by Luther.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Where do you think? If you assholes won’t take this seriously, then I will.” He snapped, shrugging and waving his one arm flippantly; Goodbye hand flashing at them both.

“No, you’re not,” Luther spoke evenly; springing up from his seat and moving to block Klaus from leaving.

Klaus hissed, “ _Watch me_ ,” as he attempted to duck and pivot around the big lug.

Luther was quicker.

His hand shot out and gripped his shoulder firmly, tight enough that Klaus couldn’t shake it off but loose enough that his strength wouldn’t hurt and leave bruising.

“You aren’t going back out there alone.” He told Klaus with a finality to his tone that broke no further arguments.

They almost lost Klaus once, and they almost lost Allison. What kind of leader would he be—what kind of brother would he be—if he allowed Klaus to go back out there on his own.

“Maybe you’re right. Dad always said we were meant to save the world, didn’t he?” At this, Klaus calmed slightly. Luther released his shoulder and continued. “What if my mission up on the moon has something to do with it?”

Klaus wasn’t stupid. He knew Luther was simply playing along to prevent him from leaving, but the look on Five’s face told Klaus they weren’t going anywhere.

“That research might give us our how, Klaus.”

And what if it turned up with nothing?

Still, they were running out of options.

It was worth a shot.

“Could you conjure dad? If the end of the world _is_ coming, he might know what it is.”

“ _Or_ you could conjure Harold’s father again, so we know where the bastard’s hiding.”

“I don’t—that’s not how—” he groaned. No matter how he explained it, he knew they wouldn’t understand that ghosts mostly came to him, not the other way around. “I—I’ll try.”

And so, a plan was made.

Diego went off to recruit Eudora’s help, while Luther went up the stairs to find the research—promising that they would radio the moment there were any new developments—and Klaus…

Klaus stared helplessly at his siblings.

“This isn’t going to end well.”

_No shit, Ben_

(***)

“Diego, I told you,” Eudora started as she met him out on the sidewalk. “I would call if we found—”

“We found him.”

Eudora deflated with relief at that. “How is he?”

“He’s—he’s Klaus.” was the automatic response. How else could he condense the events of that morning, into something coherent and believable? “Listen, I’ve got names for his abductors—”

“I _told_ you not to get involved—”

“—but I need another favor—” he talked over her.

“—We’ll need to interview your brother, and let _him_ tell us who they are—”

“—I need a file on a Harold Jenkins.”

“You’re not listening.”

He ducked to meet her eyes. “I am listening, but this is important, Eu. I wouldn’t be asking you otherwise.”

“Don’t call me that.” She answered on reflex. “You know I can’t just give you that information.”

“Eudora, please, for once just stop with the red tape bullshit. This guy—Harold—he’s after us. H-h-he att-attacked Allison.”

She straightened at that. “Why am I hearing this now? Is she okay?”

He exhaled tiredly. “Cause I’ve been at the house dealing with the aftermath—and yeah, she’ll pull through.”

She stared at him for a good _long_ moment.

“You know I can get in a lot of trouble for this, right?” in spite of that, she made her decision. With a shake of her head, she motioned for him to follow her back inside the precinct.

“I’ll behave, scouts honor.” He grinned at her.

She snorted on the derisive laugh that bubbled from her throat. “That’ll be the day.” At Diego offended huff, a faint grin toyed at her lips. “Now, tell me everything you know.”

(***)

In the residential suburbs just outside the city limit; Harold stood in the kitchen, bag packed by his feet and the phone pressed to his ear.

“Is it done?” he spoke; the stunted Italian fumbling from his lips as someone picked up.

“I’m not a miracle worker,” the voice grumbled back in the same language. “You didn’t give me much time to work with here.”

“Well, I need you to work faster. My plans aren’t working.”

“Sounds like a personal problem to me.”

“ _I_ _need it done_.”

“Demands like that will cost you extra, boy.”

“Finish the job, tonight, and I’ll pay you double.”

The booming laugh on the other end, created a piercing static as Harold pulled the receiver away slightly with a wince.

“You got yourself a deal.”

(***)

“So, everything Klaus told us about Harold is true?”

The walkie crackled as Diego’s confirmation filtered out of it—the background noise of two other people talking, filtering through also.

“What if—” he cut himself off; allowing his thoughts to process as he gazed around the office. “Diego, I know there’s no proof, but everything else he’s said so far has checked out. Maybe there’s more to his ramblings then we realized.”

“And what if there isn’t?”

“Then there isn’t.” He shrugged; not caring that Diego couldn’t see it.

“You find that moon research, yet?”

“Working on it.” he griped defensively at Diego’s patronizing tone. “I’ll report when I find something.”

Thirty minutes later, Luther was beyond frustrated and the office was a wreck.

“What on earth—” Pogo startled as he walked into the room to investigate the commotion. “My dear boy, what in the world are you looking for?”

“Where are they, Pogo.”

“Where is what?”

“The moon research, Pogo. The samples, my notes. Everything. Where is it?!”

“I—I’m not sure—your father was a—”

“Stop it!” Luther snapped. “Stop lying to me! You knew everything our dad ever did.”

Shoulders slouching in defeat; Pogo hesitantly pointed his cane to the floor beneath Luther’s feet.

“Wha—” Luther stepped forward, eyes traveling down to the rug as the boards creaked under his weight. “Clever old man.” He muttered; when kicking the rug away revealed a trap door.

The sight that meant him as he lifted that door, wasn’t as much of a surprise as he thought it would be—not after everything that’s happened this week.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

And god, did it hurt.

He could hear Pogo talking in the background, but he paid it little mind; pulling one unopened bag after another out of the floor.

Four years. All for nothing. Four years surrounded by a soundless vacuum and an all-consuming loneliness. Four years of his life that he could _never_ get back.

Diego was right.

He was sent away because Dad couldn’t stand the sight of him. Couldn’t stand the sight of the monster he had created. He was sent off, like a broken toy, with no contact other than Pogo and Mom on the rare occasion.

To know all of this now, to know that there never was a mission; left no excuse as to why he hadn’t been told about Vanya either.

All of his siblings had seen fathe— _Reginald_ —for the horrible man he truly was, _for years_. Yet here Luther sat, only just now coming to that conclusion himself.

“I’m sorr—”

“Unless you’re about to tell me everything you all have been hiding from us—don’t lie to me, I know there has to be more.” Luther cut him of evenly, voice cold as his eyes shot up to Pogo. “Then I suggest you leave me alone.”

“Master Luth—”

“Now, Pogo!”

With a resigned sigh and one last glance; Pogo turned and left.

And in the silence that was left in his wake, alone with the knowledge that his undying loyalty had meant nothing. Alone and surrounded by the clear sign that he _himself_ had meant nothing; Luther finally broke down and wept.

(***)

There were times when Eudora had an urge to throttle Diego.

“Like hell am I waiting for a warrant!”

Right now, being one of those times. With a tired huff, she continued to stand and block his way from leaving the briefing room.

“Get outta my way.”

“Sit down, Diego. Beeman—”

“I don’t care if Beeman knows the judge, Eu! We have this bastard’s address! So, I’m going! With or without you, is up to you.”

“Walk out of this room, and I _will_ tase you.”

“You really expect me to just sit around and wait?!”

“Yes!” she answered; her own aggravation mounting. She just might tase him now for good measure with how much he was trying her patience. “You promised me, Diego.” She threw at him. “I am risking _a lot_ to help you. So, the least you can do is let me go about this my way. I need you to trust me.”

“I do trust you, but—”

“Then _trust me_.”

(***)

“This is pointless.” Came Five somewhere to his left.

“Well, what else is there for him to do?” Vanya threw back from his right.

“ _I don’t know,_ maybe help Luther find the research?” Five shot back.

“You look ridiculous. You know that?” Ben was much closer to his position than the others.

Klaus resolutely tried to ignore them all.

He was on the bar top sitting cross-legged; eyes closed in concentration, elbows resting on his knees, and palms up and facing outward.

“Klaus, you’ve been going at this for a while. It’s not working.” Ben huffed. “You haven’t done this since we were kids, and even then, it never worked.”

“I’m aware of that.” He sniped, squeezing his closed eyelids tighter together as he fought to keep his concentration.

“Oh great, so we’re just wasting even more time.” Five snapped.

“Five,” Vanya chided still somewhere to his right.

“You guyswould make _excellent_ motivational speakers,” Klaus uttered with faux sweetness.

“Shut up, Klaus.”

“Piss off, Ben.”

“Why are you even bothering? What makes this time any different?”

With an overexaggerated sigh—shoulders slumping and palms falling to his knees—he snapped his eyes open to find Ben standing directly in front of him with a scowl. He glared right back.

“Yeah, well, that was before I made you assholes corporal. Figured I’d give it another shot.”

“ _Hey,”_ Vanya gasped in offense. “What did I do?”

“So, you admit it!” Five exclaimed; pausing in his endless pacing as he whirled around to face him. “Klaus what else happen—”

“Shh!” Klaus hissed. “How can I concentrate when you three won’t _shut up_?!” 

At least Vanya had the decency to look sheepish.

With a sigh, Klaus closed his eyes and tried again.

When fifteen odd minutes came and went, Klaus nearly gave up himself. Then he felt it, the tingling, electric feeling that coursed through his veins and settled at his hands. It was the gasp that came from Vanya, that had his eyes flying open.

There in front of them all was a woman with her throat slit open, the same woman who had spoken along with the rest of Cha Cha’s victims at the motel.

“Holy shit.” Ben and Klaus muttered at the same time.

The woman regarded them all before her eyes landed on him.

“Why do you call me here?” she questioned sharply.

Well, he wasn’t really aiming for her, perse, but whatever—results were results.

“Where can we find Hazel and Cha Cha?”

She shook her head with a huff. “I don’t know where the large one went; he deserted his partner last night.”

The four of them shared a look at that.

_Interesting._

“But you know where Cha Cha is?”

She glared. “Of course, I do.”

“Then tell us where she is.”

(***)

“Luther!” Klaus called as he raced up the steps for the office. “Luther! I’ve got a location!” he skidded to an abrupt halt at the destruction he was met with as he stepped into the office.

“What the fu—”

“He’s in here!” Vanya called from the adjacent room.

The mess in this room was no better than the office, and in the center of it all, was Luther.

“What—” Klaus took a few tentative steps inside the room. “Luther, what happened?”

“It was all for nothing.” Luther spoke up brokenly.

Through the chaos of what was clearly a meltdown, Klaus asked as he took in the destruction—eyes landing on several white bags scattered across the room. “You didn’t find anything?”

Luther huffed derisively, a self-deprecating laugh exploding outward. “There wasn’t anything to find, because the bastard sent me up there for nothing.”

“What?” four voices echoed, though Klaus’ was the only one heard.

“Four years of my life, I will never get back.”

“That—” Klaus trailed off; picking his way carefully through the wreckage to seat himself on the floor next to Luther.

“I sacrificed everything for him! My whole damn life!”

Klaus flinched at the volume; raising his hand to pat at Luther’s arm awkwardly—hoping the gesture would be enough when Klaus didn’t know how else to console him.

“I followed _every order_ , he ever gave.” His voice softened once more, words cracking with his grief. “I never left this house. I never had any friends. I went on every mission he pointed me toward. All for what? Absolutely nothing.”

“I—Luther…” he patted his arm again, fumbling for the right words and sending his shell-shocked siblings a wide-eyed look for help.

None of them stepped in to assist him; none of them knowing just want to say to make things right.

Useless. The lot of them.

The sob that tore from Luther’s throat unbidden, had Klaus turning back to him.

Luther slouched brokenly, his weight leaning into Klaus. “You know, Diego was right.”

“No, Luther, no he—”

“Yeah, he was.” He cut in. “Dad sent me up to the moon because he couldn’t stand the sight of… this. I’m a monster, Klaus. He made me into a monster.”

“No, no, no. That’s… that’s not…” Klaus shook his head. “Damn it, dad was such an asshole right to the end.” He knocked his shoulder into the arm that was leaning into him; the action made difficult due to the sheer weight that was Luther as a whole. “You’re not a monster. You’re our number one, remember? You’re...” he glanced at Vanya as she moved to stand in front of them both.

“—Our brother.” She finished for him.

“You’re our brother.” He repeated so Luther could hear.

“Yeah?” He scoffed. “Some brother, I’ve been.”

Fair, but then again, none of them could really claim sibling of the year, now could they?

“I—”

“Klaus,” Five cut in, tone as gentle as he could make himself sound. “It sucks, but… we need to get going. Cha Cha won’t linger where she is forever.”

Right.

They were on a time crunch. A race against the clock that none of them wanted to lose.

But what exactly could he say to Luther, that would help? What could he say that would get Luther’s head back in the game?

“Chin up, buddy,” Klaus finally settled on lamely; hopping to his feet and extending a hand out for Luther. “Come on, O’ captain my captain;” Luther stared up at him, chuckling weakly at the title as Klaus grinned a bit wider. “I’ve got us a lead and I could really use your help.”

“A lead?” despite the crack in his voice, Luther was already slipping back into mission mode; taking the offered hand and pushing himself up to his feet.

“A lead,” Klaus repeated. “I know where we can find Cha Cha.” Pivoting, he added mostly to himself. “Now, where are the keys to the car.”

Luther panicked as Klaus walked out of the office; quickly falling in place behind him. “Oh no, you’re not driving, I am!”

“Oh, come on! You’re no fun.”

“I doubt you’ve slept yet. And, if you’ll recall, it was you who totaled the car when we were sixteen.”

“Oh, it wasn’t _that bad_.” Klaus huffed.

“You crashed into a stop sign!”

“Yeah, well, it came out of nowhere!” the fact that he’d only swerved and crashed was because a blood-covered child had suddenly appeared in his way; went unmentioned.

Ben groaned as he and the others followed them out to the car. “Pretty sure that sign had always been there, Klaus.”

“Didn’t ask you.”

“What?” Luther asked in confusion.

Klaus grimaced. “Nothing.”

Luther shook his head with a roll of his eyes. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“The Hillard Stables.”

“That’s a three-hour drive, Klaus!”

“Hey, don’t look at me.” Klaus held his hands up. “You can take it up with Cha Cha when we get there, big guy.”

(***)

Harold’s house was deserted when they got there, the street and the driveway crowded with police all milling about. So far, they hadn’t found anything that was out of the ordinary, which frustrated Diego more and more the longer they turned up with nothing.

That is, until they came across the creepy shrine in the attic.

Along with the photos and magazine cutouts with their faces X’ed off, they found the missing pearl inlaid box, but no red book. What they did find, was several journals—all dated during Harold’s time in prison—stored in a plastic container nearby.

“Wait a minute. Let me see that.” Beeman called as he read a couple of passages from over Eudora’s shoulder.

As he flipped through the journals, Diego and Eudora continued to search the attic for anything they could have missed.

And turned up empty.

“Well, at least we have proof that he broke into your house. An arrest warrant won’t be too hard to obtain.”

“Gotta find the son of a bi—”

“This isn’t just a journal.” Beeman cut them off as he approached with a shake of his head. “It’s—It’s written in code. Look,” He turned the book to show them, his finger tapping on different points of the pages as he flipped through. “The entries aren’t just dated, they are numbered and out of sequence. _And_ , he’s got certain words capitalized when they shouldn’t be.”

“You think you can decode it?” Diego questioned as his eyes skimmed the journal for himself.

Beeman grinned. “Of course, I can; this is child’s play—clever, but still child’s play. Are we about done here?” as Eudora nodded, he snatched the rest of the journals up and pivoted to hand them off to the officer down below. “I’ll take these back to the station then; see what I can find.”

(***)

“Klaus,”

Klaus startled awake.

When had he even fallen asleep?

On alert, his head swiveled to find Luther staring back at him. They were no longer moving, the car off, and parked along a stretch of road leading to nowhere but open field.

“Um, Luther, this isn’t the Stables.”

Luther rolled his eyes. “She would hear the car if I drove any closer.”

“Yeah, good idea.” Klaus nodded and unbuckled himself. “We walk from here then.”

“Actually no, I’m walking while you stay here.”

Klaus whirled around so fast; his neck cracked. “Are you crazy—”

“—If I’m not back in the next hour, then radio Diego and get local back-up.”

“You _are_ crazy!” Klaus snapped. “I can see her victims, remember?! You need me!”

“Klaus—”

“No, Luther!” he quickly got out of the car, resolute in his decision as he slammed the passenger door shut in response.

With a heavy sigh, Luther exited the car quickly after. “Klaus—”

“Nope, you can shove it, Luther!” He interjected; ignoring Luther’s lumbering steps following after him as he walked. “You aren’t benching me! I went through the same damn training as a kid, _and_ I fought in a _goddamn war_! I know how to take care of myself!”

(***)

Enzo Costa.

Why did that name sound familiar.

Eudora couldn’t place it, but as the three of them worked, scouring through half-insane ramblings and other random names, Enzo Costa kept popping up more and more.

“I’m gonna take these names,” Eudora stood with her notepad in hand. “See if any of them have a criminal record on file.”

She didn’t wait for a reply.

And sure enough, she found Enzo Costa’s case file not long after.

He was a member of Giovanni’s gang, with a rap sheet a mile long—mostly for arson and theft, the longer she looked through it.

Just what in the world did Harold have planned?

(***)

Five, Ben, and Vanya all scattered to scout ahead as Klaus and Luther approached the long drive up to the rancher.

By the time they made it to the house; they saw the front door was busted wide open as they shared a look.

She was here alright.

With caution, they quietly made their way inside with Luther taking the lead; the tangy metallic smell hitting them as they crossed the thresh-hold.

“Shit,” Luther murmured quietly.

There, shot and killed, on the floor of the living room, was an elderly couple.

“Shit,” he echoed Luther just as quietly, the smell beginning to mingle with the carnage of battle.

He shook his head to try and clear it as he looked around for their ghosts; a small part of him hoping that they had moved on.

“She might be in the stables,” Luther spoke lowly. “You can’t hear anything can you?”

“No, nothing.” It was quiet, no muttering, or wailing of the dead in the house at all.

“She’s outside!” Vanya appeared suddenly and franticly. “Take cover!”

Klaus didn’t think, just acted, relaying the message quickly to Luther as he dove behind the sofa and flipped the coffee table onto its side to hide behind. Luther dove down the hall just as the hail of bullets ripped through the bay window; glass raining onto the floor and plaster dust puffing in the air as the attack continued.

The moment her clip ran out, Luther yelled his battle cry and charged, Klaus not to fair behind him, but Cha Cha was faster, pulling a pistol and firing rapidly as she raced off to put more distance between them and herself.

Luther never slowed down, even as a few of the bullets grazed his arm and cheek as he ducked and weaved; the heat of the battle and the adrenaline keeping him focused on attacking and apprehending their target.

Because of this, Luther didn’t realize Klaus wasn’t following behind him anymore; his main concern not losing sight of Cha Cha as he chased her toward the horse stables.

And in his wake, Five, Ben, and Vanya all stared in helpless horror as Klaus collapsed half in and half out of the house; his upper torso and head hitting the weather-worn floorboards like a sack of potatoes. He died instantly from the shot to his heart; mouth open in a silent gasp of pain, and eyes half-lidded as they stared sightlessly across the field.


	20. An End of Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He snorted. “Yeah, well, I’m agnostic, so…”
> 
> “It doesn’t matter.” She cut him off calmly. “You don’t belong here.”
> 
> Go figure.
> 
> Even in a supposed afterlife, he didn’t belong anywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((((Soooo, I forgot to add a part into the last chapter. I have since corrected that issue. Don’t worry, it doesn’t really affect what you’ve already read, but it’s mostly a continuation issue between Luther and Klaus’ interaction during the research reveal. The flow of conversation between “Some brother, I’ve been” to “Chin-up” was too stunted, and I forgot I had added notes to myself to change that flow and I never did XD oops. 
> 
> Side note: I've created a series for this story, cause I plan on posting separate one-shots after this behemoth is done. I can't promise they'll be done any time soon as I have other projects (plus the watching of Season 2 once this story is done) on the back burner, but I do plan on getting to them eventually. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!)))

The first thing Allison became aware of, was a darkness that pressed in from all sides. The second, was the distortion of sound, a bizarre but rhythmic buzzing, and hissing noise, filtering in from somewhere close by.

The more and more she came back to awareness; however, the sharper the sounds got, but so too did the feeling of weightlessness—like she was floating high above the clouds.

For a moment, Allison thought she might be dead.

A pang of pain, penetrated that blissful fog; proving her wrong as her head shifted on something soft beneath her.

Not dead then.

What happened? She couldn’t remember anything past…

Allison strained through the fog bogging her mind down. Fighting to recall _something_ as bits and pieces floated in and out in spurts that she tried to fit together.

Patrick. Claire. A funeral. Whose funeral?

Panic set in. Was Claire okay? Was she—

The memory hit her.

Dad’s funeral. _Not Claire’s._

Thank god.

Everything else was a blur after that. More questions popping up with little being answered.

With a choked groan, Allison squinted her eyes open against the dim light, to see if her surroundings would better answer her queries; but that floating feeling made everything blurry and out of focus, the world swaying in a nauseating way every time her eyes shifted.

The last time she had felt like this… it had been her appendix, right?

Right! 

Claire had only been a week old when Allison’s appendix had raptured; she remembered that now. Remembered not wanting to separate herself so soon from her infant daughter. Remembered how loopy the drugs had made her and how Patrick had lovingly teased her.

As awareness continued to seep sluggishly back, the sight of the infirmary and the memories of what happened the past week, came along with it.

That’s right.

 _That bastard_ did this to her.

When she got her hands on that assho—

She chocked as she tried to move and sit up, finally realizing where the uncomfortable pangs of pain were coming from.

There was something down her throat.

Why was there something down her throat?

Panic began to surface again as her gag reflex started to convulse around the foreign object.

What did that asshole do to her? Where was Diego? Was he okay?

“Miss Allison, you’re alright,” her eyes snapped to the voice to find Pogo, vision blurring with the sharp movement and causing her world to spin. “I need you to remain calm for me.”

She tried to talk, but all it achieved was more pain.

“Please, Miss Allison, you need to calm down. I know you have questions, but you aren’t helping yourself, my dear.”

She zeroed in on his voice as he continued to talk; letting his smooth tenor lull her back into that floaty-calm awareness that kept trying to pull her back under. The pain was still there though, as her eyes shifted to his once again, in silent question.

“We had to perform surgery to your hyoid.” He informed her gently; moving closer to prevent her from straining herself more to see him. “It is why you are hooked to a respirator. Your throat is too swollen for you to breathe comfortably on your own.”

Heels clicking and stopping by her head, had her looking up to the smiling face of her mother.

“Everything is going to be alright, sweetheart.” She spoke gently, as she injected something into the tube of her IV. “This is just for the pain.”

Allison's eyes grew heavy, sound muting and distorting itself around her once more. She could feel Pogo’s hand gently taking and patting her own.

“You are safe here, Miss Allison. Get some rest.”

Mom’s soft humming, and a gentle hand running through her curls, followed her into the darkness.

(***)

One moment, Klaus was right behind Luther as they chased after Cha Cha. The next, there was a white-hot blinding pain in his chest as he tried to keep Luther’s bulk mostly in front of him.

Then there was nothing but darkness.

At least, there was until a light filtered in through his closed eyelids.

Numb as he felt, he still rubbed at his chest to find and feel nothing there. No hole, no sticky warm blood, no pain.

Nothing.

What the hell?

That wasn’t right.

Slowly, his eyes opened, blinking a couple of times against the light, despite the pain never registering against his retinas.

Through the glare, he found tree branches blocking his view of the sky and not the ranch-house porch he had expected.

Where was he?

And why did everything look… gray?

With a groan, realizing he was on the ground; he lifted his head to take in the rest of his surroundings.

“Holy shit!” he startled at the sight of a little girl, in a sundress and hat, standing far to close to his prone figure for comfort.

She too, like everything else he was seeing, was gray-scaled.

Just where in the hell was he?

Deep down, he had a feeling he knew the answer. It was the only logical explanation—either that or he was having one trippy fever dream on his way to a hospital. But if it was the former… well, it couldn’t be real.

Could it?

Eyes shifted away from the monochrome woods around him and back to the little girl. “Well, hello there.” He muttered as he sat up all the way and waved his Hello hand lazily at her.

She said nothing, dark calculating eyes still studying him as he pushed up off the ground to get some distance between them.

“What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” He tittered uneasily.

Yet still, she said nothing.

A shiver ran down his spine as he _really_ took in the girl before him. She looked no older than twelve, yet something was off as she continued to study him like some lab rat, in silence. With a huff, he stared right back.

Two could play that game after all.

Yet as he scowled down at her, he quickly realized _why_ something felt off. Her eyes didn’t match the body they were attached too. Far too aged on a face so young. Far too knowing. Far too sharp.

He could sense a wave of peace in those eyes, but he could also sense the danger that lurked in the depths; her dark eyes narrowing as if she were penetrating and devouring his very soul.

“That’s not creepy at all.” He drawled sarcastically as he put a few more steps between them.

Seeing as he wasn’t going to get any answers from her, he circled and took in the rest of his surroundings.

He was definitely somewhere in the woods, the ranch, and the house, nowhere to be seen across the landscape. Birds chirped from the branches above and if he strained his hearing, he could almost make out a bubbling brook somewhere off ahead of him. There was a—a calm to the air that surrounded the whole place, circling but never suffocating.

If he didn’t know any better, he would think he was back on LSD.

But he did know better.

And his trips in the past had never been quite like… this. 

Was there even a point in asking where he was anymore?

“I think you know _exactly_ where you are.” the little girl finally spoke; her voice just as much of a contradiction as her appearance—young, yet far too world-weary for her years.

“What, you reading my thoughts now?” he muttered as he side-eyed her.

“I know all.” She answered back.

He snorted. “Yeah, well, I’m agnostic, so…”

“It doesn’t matter.” She cut him off calmly. “You don’t belong here.”

Go figure.

Even in a supposed afterlife, he didn’t belong anywhere.

“Yeah, and why’s that?”

“To be blunt. I don’t like you.” She didn’t miss a beat as she plowed through his self-inflicting _‘me too’._ “Besides, I need you down there so I can pick and choose.”

He narrowed his eyes at her.

_Down there?_

So, this wasn’t just an afterlife, this was heaven?

He took another look around the monochrome world.

 _Pfft_. Some heaven.

Though, if he were being honest, the drab and pale world did have a certain appeal to it, now that he really thought about it.

“You can’t stay here.”

He glared at her and her weird, mind-reading… _weirdness_. “Maybe I want too.” He shot back flippantly.

“You don’t get to make that call.” She answered simply. “This is not your domain, and it is not your time.”

He huffed out a laugh as he began to walk off in some random direction. “I was never a rule follower anyw—” he yelped as she suddenly appeared in front of him.

“You don’t have a choice.”

He ignored her and turned in another direction, the back and forth continuing between them until a force pressed heavily against him and froze his feet in place.

“It is not your time,” she repeated.

He huffed. “Seems as good a time as any. If I'm here, then whatever happened to me down there, can't be good!” He told her as he struggled against the invisible force; scowling and hissing. “Will you let me go!”

He nearly fell to his knees as the world suddenly shifted nauseatingly around him. Gone was the woods, and in its place was an open field with a solitary building, settled off-center to the side.

“Time is running out.”

_What the hell!_

“A little warning next time,” he grumbled.

He only grumbled farther at the amused smirk he found on her lips.

“Okay, miss _‘I know all’_.” He mocked angrily; that heavyweight no longer holding him in place and allowing him to turn and face her. “If you’re really going to send me back, then tell me—what starts the apocalypse?” Her piercing, knowing eyes sent another shiver down his spine as they clashed with his, sharply.

“Time is running out.” She repeated and pointed toward the building. “Hurry up, he’s waiting for you.”

He froze. Who would be waiti—

A flicker of hope burned in the form of a soft smile on his face.

“Dave,”

(***)

“Damn it!” Luther roared as he heard Cha Cha peel off in what sounded like a truck.

He’d almost had her.

He _would_ have had her, had one of the horses not kicked him directly into a damn haybale.

He swatted gently at the muzzle attempting to lip at his short hair, as he freed himself from the straw; hissing as his back popped when he struggled to stand up straight.

He stared at the very stallion that had kicked him from behind; spitting the stray hay out of his mouth as he groused. “Thanks a lot.”

It nickered back in response.

Most of the horses had begun to calm down as he picked his way through the shambles the stables had become, but there were still a few that whinnied frantically in their stalls as he passed them. He made a quick mental note to call the local authorities anonymously as he made his way out.

He saw the imprint of tire tracks in the mud and cursed.

He was so close.

He was so goddamn close!

With a frustrated yell, kicking a stray pail, and sending it soaring through the air; he finally realized that Klaus hadn’t been of any help at all during the fight.

He had gone against Cha Cha entirely alone.

“Fought in a damn war, my ass.” He grumbled as he trudged his way back up to the house. “And he wonders why he’s always the damn lookout.” As he rounded the corner—the porch coming into view—he rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on Klaus, seriously? If you tell me you tripped, I’m leaving you here.” He froze as he got closer. “Klaus?” his eyes landed on the pool of blood. “Klaus!”

_Shit!_

_Shit, shit, shit!_

He bypassed the two steps entirely and was by Klaus’ side in an instant; his weight rattling the floorboards as he dropped down to his knees.

“Shit, Klaus!”

Luther didn’t care as blood began to soak into his pants. All he cared about was finding a pulse—even a weak one—as his fingertips fluttered around the underside of Klaus’ neck.

He didn’t find anything.

“No, no, not again! Klaus!” he flipped him over; noting that Klaus’ eyes were half open and glazed over, and his top was soaked in his blood from the hole in his chest.

Memories of the last brother, Luther had found dead, assaulted him, and nearly stole the air from his lungs.

There had been so much blood. _Too much blood._ The floor a horror-show as he had stumbled into the room first.

There’d hardly been anything left. The body bag, he’d been forced to carry home, lighter than it should have been, but still far too heavy. 

Ben shouldn’t have had to be carried home in a body bag. Ben shouldn’t have had to be in a body bag at all.

Carrying and burying one brother had been hard enough.

Yet here he knelt over another one. Another brother he had failed to protect in the end.

He should have fought harder to keep Klaus in the car.

He should have done more.

But he hadn’t.

He had failed and Klaus was dead.

He barely noticed the tears falling from his eyes as he yelled and swung his fist downward, the floorboards giving way like styrofoam as they splintered beneath his strength.

(***)

Luther was halfway back to the car, Klaus cradled to his chest when suddenly Klaus’ body twitched in his arms. He didn’t have time to react as Klaus’ arms flailed and smacked him in the face; startling him enough to drop Klaus to the floor.

“Ouch! Easy with the merchandise!”

Luther could do no more than stare in shocked speechlessness; mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as Klaus groaned and opened his eyes.

Eyes that Luther had closed back at the house.

Eyes that had been dead and unseeing of the world around him.

What.

The.

_Hell._

Still prone on the ground and unaware of the situation around him, Klaus squinted at the sky, the sun low but not low enough as the light burned his sensitive eyes. There was a residual pain in his chest as he brought his hand to the hole in his tank, finding nothing but unmarred, yet tacky, skin beneath his fingertips. As he glanced at the sky above him once more, ignoring the pounding headache, he took in… color.

No longer was he in the monochrome landscape of the afterlife; the blue of the sky and the green of the budding early spring leaves mocking him from where he lay.

“Klaus?”

With a groan, he turned his head to the right and found Ben, Five, and Vanya all staring at him in utter horror.

“You were—” Ben shook his head, not exactly believing the image that sat before him. “You were dead, Klaus.”

Klaus had OD’d and flatlined plenty of times before—Ben witness to almost all of them—so why was this time any different?

Only it was, wasn’t it?

He’d never made it to the afterlife all those other times...

“How—” Five stammered; pale in the face—he will never stop seeing his sibling’s dead bodies for as long as he lived. “How is that possible?!”

Vanya was on the ground next to Klaus, her hands hovering and flitting between his chest and face—but never touching. A battle of emotions warred within her eyes as she met his—the most prominent being shock and relief.

He opened his mouth; an inappropriate wise-crack on the tip of his tongue when he heard something heavy fall to his left.

Luther.

Oh shit, Luther!

Luther was on his knees to his left; blood coating his overcoat as his hand found and gripped Klaus’ arm almost to the point of bruising--a reassurance to himself that what he was seeing was real.

“How—” Luther echoed Five; his face just as ashen as he found his voice at last.

Klaus cut him off as he answered them all at large. “God doesn’t like me. Go figure.” He chuckled out sardonically, his mirth tampering off the moment he tried to sit up with a wince. The motion threw Luther into action as he helped Klaus up to his feet. “She was a piece of work, let me tell you.” He muttered mostly to himself; dusting the dirt and grime off his body and grimacing at the gore that stained his clothes. “Met up with Dad though.” His laugh came out a bit shriller in pitch. “Real bummer that was.”

“What—”

“He’s still the same prick as he was in life.” Klaus continued to ramble, talking over Luther’s confusion as he took in where they were.

They were in the middle of nowhere, trees lining one side of the road and open field lining the other. 

Luther had been... carrying him back to the car.

_Shit._

He didn't want to think about that.

Not at all.

So, he skirted around the issue completely; words continuing to tumble out of his mouth as he picked a direction, he thought the car was in, and started walking. 

If he continued to ramble, then he wouldn’t have to think about that or anything else that had transpired.

“Klaus—”

He wouldn’t have to process that he had been _ready_ to tear the entirety of that afterlife apart, just so he could look for Dave.

“Klaus—”

He wouldn’t have to accept that he’d been completely ready to _stay_ dead just so he _could_ see Dave.

“Klaus!”

His name left the mouths of two of his siblings this time; Vanya still quiet and Five still ashen and haunted with a past he would never be able to shake.

“What?”

Luther was directly behind him as he whirled back around—Ben standing worriedly next to them.

“Klaus, what happened?”

He shook his head, a crazed, choking laugh bubbling to the surface. “We need to get back to the academy.”

He couldn’t do this with them now. Not here.

Not right now.

He turned to continue moving along the side of the road when Luther’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Luther, not right—”

“You’re going the wrong way.”

_Oh._

He’d just died and basically got shunned and brought back to life by a little girl, who claimed to be God. He felt he deserved a pass on that one.

No one said a word as Luther steered him in the right direction.

And if Luther’s hand remained on his shoulder the entire walk back to the car, Klaus didn’t notice—lost in thought as he was, despite his earlier attempts to avoid it.

Back at the car, he dropped gratefully into his seat; sagging back and resting his head against the cool glass of the window once the door was shut. He could hear Luther talking outside of the car with the walkie; though he couldn’t hear exactly what was being said.

“Klaus.”

“Not now, Ben.”

“You can’t ignore—”

“I know, guys. I know, just… not now.”

Hopefully, the drive back to the mansion would give him enough time to process and articulate his thoughts; iffy as that notion may be. He was still pissed that he’d been ripped away just as the old-timer was about to tell him something important—even more so that it had been the old-timer himself, that Klaus had been pointed toward.

He didn’t know how he was going to break the news to his siblings.

If he couldn’t figure something out in the next three hours; well, winging it had always been more his style anyway.

(***)

“I swear, you and your family are more trouble then you’re worth,” Eudora muttered as she dropped down next to him at the table. “Can _none of you,_ allow us to do our jobs in peace?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He responded casually, as he looked up from the journal.

“Must be a family trait.” She muttered lowly under her breath.

“What did the sheriff say?”

“Nothing.” She shot him a look. “I have no jurisdiction in that county.”

“But it’s connected to—”

“I know, Dee, but there’s no evidence to support it. Not yet at least.” She amended. With a sigh, she regarded him and Beeman. “Find anything?”

“Just that Harold _really_ wants Diego and his sibling’s dead,” Beeman answered.

“He’s not gonna get the chance,” Diego growled.

“We’re not going to let him.” Eudora agreed placatingly.

(***)

Diego startled awake at the hand on his good shoulder; whirling back with a fist out of reflex, only to have his wrist caught.

When the hell had he fallen asleep?

He squinted up at Eudora with a scowl. “Why did you let me fall asleep!”

“You clearly needed it; you’ve been running yourself rugged.”

He grunted and twisted his wrist free form her grasp, a quiet apology stumbling from his lips at almost hitting her.

“Did you find anything?” he questioned as he stood and stretched, his lower back protesting from leaning the way he had.

“No, but you need to get going.”

Glancing at the clock, he realized he did need to start heading out. Luther and Klaus would be back at the house at any minute.

Hesitantly, he stared at the work they’d been doing.

“Go home, Dee. Beeman and I will keep at it.” he opened his mouth, but she cut him off and gently pushed on him to get him to move. “I promise, I’ll call when we find something. I have the academy's number. Now go.”

(***)

“Luther, I’m fine!” Klaus griped as he tried to wriggle himself free from Luther’s grip as they made their way to the infirmary. “Luther!”

“Klaus, you weren’t fine!” Luther shot back.

“But I am now!”

“You were dead, Klaus!” he argued; freezing in the hall but never releasing his grip. “Shot straight through the heart! There should have been no coming back from that!”

“Yet, here I am.”

Luther growled. “How are you so calm about this?!” he just couldn’t wrap his head around it. “You were gone, Klaus. You were gone….”

“But, I’m not, Luther. I’m fine.” Klaus told him as gently as he could.

“Klaus, just…” Luther pushed him forward again. “Just do me this favor and let Mom look you over.”

Walking behind them, their three siblings grunted their agreement for Klaus to hear.

“ _Fine,_ ” Klaus bemoaned. “I’ll do it. Now, will you let me go?”

The moment they reached the infirmary, the door creaking open slightly on its hinges; the two froze to find Allison awake and staring groggily at them both.

“Allison.” five voices uttered at the same time.

Allison couldn’t sit up without causing herself pain, so she made do with stretching her arm out for Klaus in silent beckoning; the relief and panic in her eyes palpable.

“Hey there, Ally-Kat.” He greeted as he approached—hearing Luther not too far behind.

He watched as her eyes struggled to stay focused on him; zeroing in mostly on the blood she could clearly see covering the front of him and Luther.

In her growing panic, her hand fumbled to grab at his own and he quickly took it; giving it a gentle squeeze as she weakly squeezed his back.

“It’s okay, we’re okay.” He assured her when the beeping of the heart monitor didn’t slow down.

Her eyes darted to Luther, who nodded. “We’ll explain when Diego gets here.”

(***)

It wasn’t long after Luther and Klaus cleaned up and changed their clothes; that Diego had arrived home.

They were back in the infirmary; Luther was seated by Allison—who was still stubbornly awake and scribbling her questions weakly on a notepad--while Klaus sat in the spare chair being looked over by their Mother.

“Alright, what was so important that I had to wait this long to hea—why is Klaus being checked over by mom?”

With everyone there, even Pogo—who had been helping with Allison while she and Luther talked—Klaus braced for the fallout and dove headfirst into the conversation.

“Dad killed himself.”

He winced at the collective uproar from five of his six siblings; Allison waving the notepad at him from where she was propped up.

Klaus continued; talking over them all as he explained why Reginald had done it. That it had been the only way to get them all back together again to save the world—which ends tomorrow.

The ball of doubt was in Allison and Diego’s court, but not Luther as he narrowed his eyes at Klaus—rolling the information around in his head. With all the secrets that had been revealed over the week; all the shit they’ve gone through since the funeral; Luther couldn’t say it wasn’t a possibility at this point. Not to mention, Klaus had died. Not unconscious or on the brink of it—but actually died.

Then he’d come back rambling that God didn’t like him and that da—Reginald—had talked to him.

Luther’s eyes shifted to Pogo on the other side of Allison—their confidant, that they had all trusted, staring resignedly at Klaus as Klaus began to argue with Diego in the background.

“How do you know all of this?” Diego yelled.

“I conjured hi—”

“You died, Klaus.” Luther cut in before Klaus could lie.

Klaus winced as Diego roared his outrage.

“What the hell happened?!” he glared at Klaus before aiming his rage on Luther, who was trying to calm a very frantic Allison down with Pogo. “ _What the hell, happened_?!”

“There’s nothing to worry about, I’m fi—”

“He got shot.” Luther cut in again, glaring at Klaus as Klaus glared back.

With a roll of his eyes, Klaus pushed Diego away when he moved to check him over for injuries. “I said, I’m fine!”

“He doesn’t look shot to me.”

“He healed…or something—I don’t know Diego! But he was dead!”

“Can we get back to Dad, please?!”

“What the hell, Luther; you were supposed to keep an eye on him!”

“Hey! It wasn’t my fault!”

“You were supposed to be wat—”

“Enough!” Pogo called over them all, cane tapping loudly on the floor to draw their attention. “That is _quite_ enough out of all of you!”

“Yeah, _it is enough._ ” Luther shot back with a scowl. Diego looked ready to argue, but Luther wasn’t aiming his words at him as he turned that scowl onto Pogo. “Klaus is right, isn’t he?”

It was time that everything dad kept from them finally came out into the light.

No more secrets.

_Enough was enough._

“Pogo?” he urged.

Pogo flinched, his eyes meeting Mom’s first before he shifted to meet Luther’s head-on.

“Master Klaus is correct. Regretfully, I helped Master Hargreeves enact his plan. So did Grace.”

“So, the e-e-end of the wo-world, really is coming?” Diego stuttered out; calming slightly as their mother approached him—even as he shied away from her attempt to grab his hand.

“That was what your father always believed, yes.” She confirmed for them all; not even missing a beat.

“I told you!” Klaus crowed with validation.

Though it was a hollow victory with just how little time all of them really had left. Made even dreary with just how overly exhausted and run-down all of them were.

“Enough secrets, Pogo.” Luther cut in. “What else aren’t you telling us? What else has he been hiding from us?”

“I never wanted to lie to you all.” Pogo started as he pulled up a chair and sat gingerly down into it. “I advised your father, _countless times_ , that his methods would only hurt things—not help. But he never listened.” he sighed. “Your father was a very… _difficult_ man.” He pushed on even as Diego snorted in derision. “No matter what I or Grace could advise on your behalf, we had no power to stop him. Grace had been _programmed_ , not to stop him.”

Their mother glanced down at that.

“Tha—”

Pogo held up his hand gently. “Your sister was the biggest secret your father swore us all to keep hidden. At all costs.”

“What secret? If you're talking about her death, we would have figured it out event—”

“I’m not talking about her death.” Pogo cut in as he regarded them all. “Your sister wasn’t just ordinary, dear children. Miss Vanya had powers.”

A second uproar echoed in the room.

“What?!” Klaus gasped in shock, his eyes, as well as Ben and Five’s, turning to an equally shocked Vanya.

“No, no, th—that’s not possible.” She muttered with a shake of her head, glancing back at Klaus frantically for help that he couldn't give.

“Are you serious?!” came Diego as he began to pace the floor. “You mean to tell me meek, ordinary Number Seven, had powers?”

Vanya couldn’t even be offended at that, still reeling in disbelief.

“Pogo, you better not be lying.” Luther cut in.

All the while, Allison looked paler and paler as the conversation continued.

“I’m afraid I'm not.” Pogo answered as Allison began to scribble fiercely on the notepad.

 ** _My fault!_** It read as she held it up.

“Allison, what do you mean?” Luther questioned as everyone turned to stare at her.

 ** _My fault!_** She tapped it again, before flipping the page to write out her next sentence. **_I didn’t understand it at the time, we were just kids! Dad, he made me an accomplice!_**

“Your father… he couldn’t control your sister or her growing power.” Pogo explained so Allison wouldn’t have too. “There was a reason, why he got rid of the nannies and built Grace to take care of you children.”

“The nannies…” Klaus muttered; scrambling to remember _why_ he felt he should know the information in the first place.

“He realized there was no way to help Miss Vanya.” Pogo went on. “So, he quarantined her and told the rest of you that she was very ill. He suppressed her power with pills he passed off as her anxiety medication.” He glanced at Allison, talking louder over everyone’s outrage as he finished. “Your father had Miss Allison not only rumor Miss Vanya into thinking she was ordinary, but the rest of you as well.”

Silence fell after that bombshell; Allison lowering her head in guilt for something that wasn’t entirely her fault.

“Bullshit! He didn’t do that because he couldn’t help her.” Five seethed. “He did it because he was _afraid_ of her.”

Vanya grew more ashen at that as Ben rolled his eyes and smacked Five on the shoulder.

“Way to go, genius.”

“Hit me again, and see what happens!”

Klaus hissed at them _both_ to shut up.

In the silence that was left after Pogo’s words, he told them truthfully. “That’s the last of your father’s secrets, this I can promise you.”

None of them knew what to believe anymore after that.

The damage had already been done.

And with it, lay the remains of their shattered trust.

(***)

**_Klaus, you should go and get some rest._ **

“No-can-do Ally-Kat,” Klaus responded; leaning back in the chair and propping his feet up on the bed beside hers.

In the wake of the reveal, only Klaus and Allison remained in the infirmary—barring his three siblings of course.

After their mother had run her tests to make sure everything was fine with him; Diego and Luther had finally headed off to try and get some sleep.

They would need all the rest they could get, to be ready for whatever may come.

Too bad Klaus was still wired after his…trip.

“She’s right, Klaus. You look dead on your feet.” Ben stated.

 _“_ Oh, ha-ha.” He muttered with a quick glare in his direction.

**_What?_ **

“Nothing,” Klaus answered her quickly. “You comfortable, sis? Need me to get mom?”

**_No, I’m fine._ **

She was lying, he could tell, but Allison could be just as stubborn as the rest of them.

So, since neither of them had the motivation to sleep, they talked instead.

Allison wrote out her questions and Klaus caught her up on the few things the others had failed to mention. To bring some levity to the tense room, he regaled her with some of the things he’d been up too in the past few years, and in turn, she told him about Claire.

**_Can I ask a favor?_ **

“Uh, sure," he answered uncertainly. "What do you need? Do you need me to get mom?”

She waved her hand in the negative, since moving her head was impossible, before scrawling out her message.

**_How would you like to meet your niece?_ **

(***)

It wasn’t long after that emotional call—having stolen the office phone and plugged it into the jack he found in the infirmary—that Allison finally succumbed to the drowsiness of the pain meds.

When the silence had stretched long enough—when he was sure he wouldn’t disturb her—he turned to his siblings with a wary expression on his face.

“So, our little sister has powers.”

Vanya huddled into herself more at that. “But…” she trailed off, any argument she could make, weak in the face of the evidence they’d been given.

“Vanya, think about it. It would explain what you felt at the motel.” Five cut in. 

Klaus perked up at that. “What do you mean?”

“The moment you made us corporal, we felt our powers returning.” Five explained for all of them. “But Vanya was the only one who said the sound amplified. So, clearly, her power is sound-based.”

As the conversation continued to head down that topic—Klaus reassuring Vanya that, powers or no powers, she would always be his sister—Klaus was coerced into revealing everything that had happened while he’d been in Vietnam.

He told them of each incident that took place; of how he couldn’t control the power whenever it had come out.

It was aggravating that he couldn’t turn the damn thing on and off whenever he wanted; that-- had he had better control--a lot of their problems could have been solved.

It would all have to wait though.

They couldn’t afford to waste any of their time figuring out how to help him control it, not when their main concern was stopping Harold and whatever he had planned. They could think about everything after.

_If there was an after._

None of them had high hopes, but they still had to try.

And as Klaus finally succumbed to his own exhaustion—feet propped up beside Allison’s once more—he wondered what kind of hell they would face, come morning.

(***)

At 6:19 am on April 1st, the world came to end.

At 5:49 am, Harold attacked the mansion.

At 5:42 am, Klaus was rudely awoken by a screaming man—with his head bashed in—and his siblings all yelling for him to get up.

Ten months in the war had changed Klaus, no longer as slow and sluggish after sleep, but quick and alert as he snapped to his feet and raced out into the hall—Allison startling awake at the sudden motion as Klaus accidentally knocked his foot into her leg on his way out.

“Harold is here! Get up! He’s here!” He yelled as he raced down the hall, slamming Diego’s door open to find him up and ready as he pushed past Klaus.

“Where is he?” came Luther as he jogged down the hall to meet them.

“He’s on his way,” Klaus relayed and he pivoted on his feet to head for the office.

The old man had a hunting rifle somewhere in there, didn’t he? Or did he store that in his room?

A hand on his shoulder stopped him from taking another step forward.

“Get Allison and the others, and get out of here.”

“Are—” Klaus floundered at Luther. “Are you serious?!” he seethed. “I can help!”

“You can help, by getting the others and getting out of here, Klaus!” Luther repeated.

While he didn’t doubt that Klaus could handle himself, the fact remained that his brother’s dead body was still fresh on his mind and Luther _really_ didn’t want to have a repeat of that. Besides, there were only three of them left, and _someone_ needed to stay with Allison.

There was no time to relay any of this aloud as Luther turned and left.

“He’s right, Klaus.” Diego agreed before he raced off to catch up.

“I don’t believe this!” Klaus hissed in shock as he made his way back to the infirmary. “I’ve been sidelined a-fucking-again!”

“Klaus, Allison is vulnerable right now,” Ben reasoned. “Someone needs to be there for her.”

Klaus sighed and conceded the point.

Didn’t mean he had to like it.

The moment he entered the infirmary, they froze in shock to see Allison sitting up; her movements frantic as she tried to pull the tube out of her mouth.

“Hey! No! Take it easy there, sis!” Klaus panicked as he raced over to try and stop her. “That’s what’s helping you!” but it was already too late.

With a pained grimace on her face, her breathing coming out in short wheezing pants through her swollen windpipe; she ignored his fretting hands and snatched the notepad up to show what she had already written down.

**_What’s going on?!_ **

**_Where are the others?_ **

“Harold—”

He was cut off as the distant—yet still far too close for Klaus’ comfort—sound of explosions went off. He met Allison’s panicked expression with one of his own as he moved to help her up and support her weight.

They had to get out here.

Distantly, they could hear Luther and Diego yelling as they made their way out into the hall; bumping quickly into Mom and Pogo as they crossed the thresh-hold.

“You need to go!” Klaus ordered through his rapidly beating heart as he passed Allison’s weight off to Mom, who took her quickly.

“And where are you going?” Pogo questioned as Allison tried to reach out and grab ahold of Klaus with her free arm.

“To help!” he told them as he pivoted and raced down the hall. “Now go!”

He ignored the calls for him to come back; grabbing one of the small statues off the hall table as he passed. There was no time to look for the rifle anymore.

It would have to do.

The sound of the battle below him reached his ears as he rounded the corner for the stair landing; Luther and Diego’s war cries mixing in with the echoing cries and orders of soldiers.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen.” Five told them. “You all fought together. I found your bodies together!”

“Yeah, well, you never mentioned anything about Allison having a neck injury, either,” Klaus called over his shoulder as he descended the first few steps. “Face it Five, we’ve already changed—”

A second round of explosions resounded around them; ratting the entire mansion on its foundation and sending Klaus falling the last few steps down to the second landing.

“Klaus!”

It was the straw that broke the camel’s back as he curled inward and landed on his side to protect his head.

He didn’t move out from his position, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest; his breathing quickening and his vision tunneling as sound began to distort and sharpen all in one big clusterfuck of white noise.

“Klaus!” Ben, Five, and Vanya all yelled at once.

Klaus didn’t hear it, copter blades, and screams deafening him as he squeezed his eyes shut and covered his ears.

“Klaus! Get up!” Five yelled, louder still.

Something wasn’t right. The three of them didn’t have to be alive to feel the shift in the air all around them.

The walls began to shake, the stained-glass windows by the staircase rattling as pieces began to chip and crack.

They eyed the glass warily.

“Get up!” Ben yelled at him. “Come on, snap out of it!”

“Klaus, please!” Vanya tried, falling to her knees beside Klaus and yelling over the noise of shrieking glass and objects falling and flying off the walls.

“Klaus, get up! Get away from the windows!”

“No, no, no, no.” Klaus muttered to himself, hands still pressed firmly to his ears and eyes still tightly shut to the world around him. “no, no, no. Dave, no...”

 _Shit._ The three of them couldn’t help but think.

This wasn’t fear crippling him. This was another one of his panic attacks. Brought on by the war he had not so long ago left behind.

“Klaus, listen to me.” Vanya continued, hoping her voice could penetrate the fog before it was too late. “You aren’t back there. You aren’t in Vietnam. You are right here with us! You’re in the mansion in 2019!”

Klaus curled himself up even tighter.

The rattling got worse.

“Klaus!”

“Come on Klaus!”

Five kept his eyes on the windows, on the spiderwebbed cracks that continued to form on its surface.

“Klaus, snap out of it damn it!”

“That’s not helping, Ben!”

“He can’t stay here!” Ben yelled back at Vanya as he gestured toward the glass. “That thing is gonna come down at any moment!”

“We know!”

But nothing they did was getting through to Klaus.

Their arguing and yelling only seemed to make things worse.

The explosions of the mansion, the darkness of the mausoleum, the images of war—they all swirled in dizzying, confusing patterns behind Klaus’ eyelids. The wails and screams and fire and—

It was too much.

It was just too much.

As a sob tore from Klaus’ throat, the window finally lost its battle, the stained-glass breaking and raining in sharp chunks downward.

“Klaus!”

“Move!”

A pulse wave of blue light rippled out of Klaus, the energy not only sending the glass away before they could land but hitting the nearest walls with enough force to crack the plaster.

And it's then and there, that Five realized where he’d been right and wrong about doomsday—right and wrong and _far too late_ to do anything about it.

Harold wasn’t the cause of the end of their world; he’d only been the fuse. Five’s theory that it would be one of the mysterious children had been correct all along.

He just never thought it would be his _own sibling_ to cause it.

“Klaus!” Five’s voice was desperate now.

They needed to stop him. They needed to calm him down before it got any worse.

A second pulse wave rippled out before any of them could try; the light slamming and breaking a support pillar on the first floor and caving that portion of the ceiling inward.

In their desperation to reach Klaus through the fog of his panic, none of them saw what went on around them.

They didn’t see as Luther lunged and ripped Harold’s eye out as a third, and last, explosion rattled and danced with a third shock wave of blue energy. They didn’t see the aftermath of that power as the ceiling caved and crushed Diego, just as he hit Harold in the heart with a knife. They didn’t see as that same ceiling, and everything above it, fell on top of Luther.

They didn’t see that Mom, Pogo, and Allison never made it out of the mansion; far to close to the third detonation that went off around the academy during their attempt to flee.

As the building continued to creak and groan and crumble around them; none of them heard the phone in the foyer ringing off the hook.

None of them would ever know that it was Beeman on the other end to give them a warning too late; that Harold had hired Enzo to plant C-4 around the mansion and throughout the city block. None of them would ever know, that Eudora had been speeding her way toward the academy to help—seeing the black plumes of smoke, the closer her vehicle got.

The shrill sound of the phone cut off abruptly as the rubble from the walls landed and broke it. Only to be replaced with the piercing shriek of metal grinding against metal as the earth began to rumble violently beneath their feet.

And Klaus?

Klaus was oblivious to it all.

His already uncontrollable powers went ballistic after that third explosion.

All he could hear was the war; of the gunfire and the loud ear-splitting blasts of grenades and tank missiles as the building continued to crumble unknowingly around him. All he could smell was the suffocating scent of smoke, the metallic tang of blood, the putrid, stomach-turning scent of arid flesh.

Before he knew it, he was completely back in that godforsaken jungle; men yelling out orders all around him and the familiar weight of his rifle held firmly in his hands.

He could feel the heat of the flames as he took aim and fired alongside his unit. Could feel the damp humid earth beneath his knees as he dove for cover.

“Where were you, Number Four?”

Startled, Klaus looked up to find Luther standing and glaring down at him; the bullets from the battle hitting but hardly fazing him.

“What do you mean” Klaus stuttered out.

“We’re dying, and you weren’t there to help us!” Came Diego as he and Allison flanked Luther’s sides.

“No, no, I’m trying! I—”

“You weren’t there to help me!” Allison cried, her voice scratchy and raw. “You passed me off to someone else and ran like the coward you are!”

“No, that wasn’t it at all! I was—”

“You always have an excuse, don’t you Klaus?”

He snapped his head to the right to find Ben.

“I knew you weren’t cut out for this.” Came Five to his left. “We were doomed from the start.”

“No, no—”

“Poor Number Four,” Vanya taunted as she fell to her knees in front of him. “You never could do anything right, could you? Always the family disappointment.”

He shook his head frantically, curling up on the damp earth and squeezing his eyes shut as they got closer.

“Klaus!”

“Klaus!”

“Save us!

“Help us!”

“Klaus!”

They taunted and wailed as he began to sob.

“Klaus?”

In an instant, the voices of his siblings were gone, and in its place, a voice he thought he’d never hear again.

With more hesitance to the action, he lifted his head, and chocked on his cry as he found Dave lying dead in front of him; glazed over eyes staring right back instead of at the sky.

“Klaus?”

“Dave?” he croaked out as he scrambled to get closer, but no matter how much he moved, the distance never dwindled between them. “Dave!”

“Why did you let me die?”

“I—no, Dave—I didn’t!”

“You let me die, then you left me and our squad to die.”

“No, no, no.” He whimpered. “Dave, no, I was—I was tr-trying to get back. To you! I swear! I was trying to stop it!”

In a blink, Dave was on his feet and towering over him, blood oozing out of his mouth in stringy congealed strips as his skin turned ashen and veiny like the wraiths from the mausoleum. Klaus stared up at him in abject horror; Dave’s once baby blue eyes now clouded over in white as Dave leaned forward.

“But you didn’t come back. You didn’t stop it. Did you?” he taunted. “I’m still dead.”

“Dave,” he sobbed. “Dave, please, I—I’m sorry! I tried; I really did try!”

“That’s not good enough.”

The sounds of battle grew closer as Dave suddenly appeared by the tree line along with the rest of his family; all with their backs toward him.

“No, no, please!”

“You deserted us, you deserted me.” Dave turned his head to look at him. With one final parting shot, he and his siblings disappeared under the shadows of the trees. “You deserve this fate.”

“No, no, Dave! Ben! No, please! Come back!” he couldn't move to run after them. Why couldn’t he run after them?! “Come back! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Dave! Guys!”

Outside of the fog, back in the academy, his three siblings all continued to yell out their desperation.

But Klaus couldn’t hear it; lost in his grief in a jungle of earth and concrete; no longer knowing what was real and what wasn’t anymore.

The shrieking of the tectonic plates crescendoed with the gut-wrenching sob that tore itself bodily from Klaus.

Another pulse wave, this one larger and stronger than any of the others swelled out like a tsunami. Class 8 earthquakes began to riddle the world, earth and oceans shifting and rising and volcano’s erupting with the disturbance.

Five, Ben, and Vanya could do no more than watch on helplessly as it all continued to come crashing down around them.

Their time was up.

They had failed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (((Before you go off with pitch-forks, keep in mind, that I promised there would be a happy ending to this story. You'll just have to wait for the last chapter XD 
> 
> I promise that all of this will make sense soon. And as much as I wanted to wait to post this chapter until after I've written the last, I didn't want to keep you all waiting any longer. I'm hoping to get the last chapter up no later than Sunday. But if not, then Definitely by early next week.))))


	21. Let’s Do This; One Last Time/Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With an easy grin and a wave of his newly tattooed Hello hand, he slotted his other arm through Dave’s.
> 
> They could be angry all they wanted.
> 
> Klaus regretted nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((((Alright, this is it, this is the last chapter! WOOO!! I may or may not continue to write one-shots for this universe though, so while this is the end of this story, it's not the end of their story. XD
> 
> Before I leave you guys, I just want to say thank you to everyone who had commented and left kudos. I never expected this story to gain as much attention as it has, and honestly, without your comments, I probably would have lost motivation to write this a long while ago. So thank you!! Thank you so much for being awesome! 
> 
> Anyway, Enjoy the last chapter guys! *immediately goes off to start watching season 2*))

The building moaned and groaned around them as support beams began to buckle and drywall and stone began to crumble. The irritating grinding as the earth continued to shake and rumble beneath them, drowned out the terrified, echoing screams and frantic chaos coming from all over the city.

“What are we gonna do now?!” Ben yelled over the noise.

“I don’t know!” Vanya answered him; her eyes never straying from the circle of blue light that had begun to form and encase Klaus. “Five?”

Five wasn’t listening to them, his eyes glaring down at his balled-up fists as his mind turned over any possible solution he could think of.

“Five?”

“I don’t know!” He finally snapped.

What could they do?

Nothing they had done so far had gotten through to Klaus. Their brother was too lost in the depths of his PTSD and grief, and even if they managed to reach him now; was there even a point?

Could the world still be saved once the shockwaves and aftershocks settled?

Or had the damage already been done?

“Klaus?”

Three heads swiveled to the new voice to find Luther, blood dripping from a large cut on his dirtied forehead and limping badly as he stared down at Klaus’ curled up form.

“Oh, thank god,” Vanya breathed out in relief. “Luther can help! He can reach him!”

The hope died quickly, for none of them had expected Luther’s head to snap in their direction; his wide eyes meetings Vanya’s in surprise.

“Va—Vanya?” he called her name in awe, before his eyes went over her shoulder to where Five and Ben lingered. “Ben?! Five?!”

_No._

That couldn’t be possible.

No one had ever been able to see them before. They also knew they weren’t corporal, or they would have felt their powers returning if that were the case.

So, how—

Five stepped forward and took a good look at Luther, noting the blood and the odd angle that his leg seemed to be in. While Luther had always been good at dealing with pain, Five could tell this was different. Not to mention, his chest looked as if it had been…

As if it had been concaved by a giant weight.

_Shit._

Luther was dead just like the rest of them.

“What the hell is going on? How are you—” Luther trailed off as he continued to stare at them in awe. “Oh my god. Klaus was telling the truth, wasn’t he? You’ve been here this whole time, haven’t you?”

Ben nodded as Luther moved closer to them, his hands dropping on top of Vanya’s head and Ben’s shoulder to assure himself that he wasn’t seeing things.

“I—I’m so sorr—”

“We’re not the one’s you should be apologizing too.” Vanya cut in gently.

“And now is not the time.” Five added as he quickly caught Luther up to speed on what was going on.

“So, this is it then? We failed?”

Five’s jaw ticked as he reluctantly nodded.

Their conversation was cut short as another pulse wave flared out from the ball of light encasing Klaus; this one not as strong as the last one, but no less powerful as it brought the last of the academy walls crashing down.

The landing they were on cracked and crumbled with it, the four of them jumping off and bellowing as Klaus disappeared underneath the rubble.

Luther lunged to save him, to start tearing through the wreckage as if he were still alive and capable to do so.

“Luther, that’s not going to—” Five cut himself off; the tingling, electric feeling coursing through him just as Luther’s hands met and lifted the debris effortlessly.

“What the—” Ben felt it too; his hands quickly shooting up to press firmly against his stomach as _They_ began to shift and slither from underneath his hoodie.

Vanya faired no better, hissing and covering her ears as the ringing from all the noise amplified ten-fold. While she felt none of the pain that she knew she would have felt if she were alive, that didn’t stop the noise from overwhelming her enough to nearly bring her to her knees.

Five stared at the rubble; seeing the blue lights flickering through the cracks as a plan quickly began to form.

“Guys!” he called to them.

It was risky, and who knew how long they would remain corporal for, but Five had to try.

_They had to try._

“Guys!” Five called one more, channeling his power into his fists and outward as space and time began to wrap and twist around him.

“What—oh,” Ben smacked Luther on the shoulder to get him to stop digging, the two of them turning to see the blue glow flickering and swirling around Five.

“Don’t just stand there, you idiots! Get over here!”

Ben and Luther quickly moved to support Vanya—who continued to buckle under the weight of the sound as her own powers began to flicker and rise.

“Vanya?” Ben questioned as he began to hear a faint ringing sound echo in the air.

“I’ll be alright.” She pushed out through gritted teeth.

Five stared at her worriedly; watched as faint ripples of white began to rise out of her as it danced and mingled with the blue of Klaus’ power.

Maybe Klaus wasn’t the only one they had to watch out for.

Five shook the mental thought away _._

There wasn’t any time to contemplate the possibilities right now.

If his plan worked, they would have all the time to think about it later, but he needed to execute it first.

“Grab on!”

“What are you planning, Five?”

“There’s no time to explain.” He told them all. “I don’t know how long we’ll stay like this.”

“You’re going to send us back.” Vanya caught on quickly, wincing as the crack of Five’s power ricocheted like a crack of thunder. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes,”

“But how?”

Five’s jaw ticked again.

What part of— _didn’t have the time to explain_ —did his siblings not understand?

Gritting his teeth as he continued to force his power to flow outward, he answered, “I’m hoping I can transfer our conscious minds through time.”

“And you’re sure you can do that?” Luther questioned loudly over the chaos still going strong around them; the flashes of blue slipping through the cracks, clashing with the ringing white ripples coming unbiddenly from Vanya. “Shouldn’t we try and get Klaus—”

“There’s no time!” Five cut in. “If we don’t do this now, then that’s it. We’re finished. There will be no second chances! _Nothing_!”

“You’re sure this will work?” came Ben, as he too stared at the pile of debris where Klaus had disappeared under—relieved to know that their brother was still alive underneath it.

“We’re already dead,” Five deadpanned. “Can’t get much worse than that at this point.”

“But Allison and Diego—” Luther tried again.

“ _There’s no time!”_ Five hissed at him.

“Guys!” Vanya called; her voice shaking as her eyes settled on something in the distance.

As Ben and Luther gasped around him, Five didn’t bother to look for himself. He could already see the familiar ash beginning to rain like snow. So, whatever it was, he didn’t have to see it to know it wasn’t good.

None of them saw as the flashing blue energy under the rubble began to tamper off, the drop of power enough to cause the wreckage to shift and concave with the new space given. Had they been looking, they would have seen the moment the energy suddenly ceased, and Five would have realized why his power was beginning to weaken and fade.

As it were; however, none of them knew, and Five began to curse loudly.

“Hang on!”

As his siblings all huddled around him, as he felt their hands gripping his shoulders and arm to remain attached; Five roared as he pushed the last ounce of power up and outward into the swirling vortex, he’d created above them.

And as the wall of volcanic ash continued to race in, setting fire to everything it touched; the four of them blinked out in a wave of blue just as it washed over the academy.

(***)

Watching from the safety of their kingdom, the old deity—that had briefly shown themselves to Klaus as a little girl—watched as the world came to a crumbling, firry end.

It was not pity, they tell themselves, as they send the last three remaining souls through that portal just before it closed.

No, it was not pity at all.

How could they pity the misfit souls that they didn’t want bothering them in their own damn domain?

Eventually they would have to call the seven of them home, but for now, they would enjoy the peace while they still had it.

(***)

One moment, Ben was sharing an apprehensive look with Vanya and Luther as the three of them held tight to Five. In the next, he was floating, suspended in the air as the vortex pulled and pushed him wherever it decided to take him.

Despite being dead, there was still a heavy discomfort that grew the longer he traveled through the twisting tube of light; a pressure building on all sides of him as if he were being forced through a straw.

The blue swirling light grew brighter, forcing him to close his eyes as the energy sizzled and popped and roared loudly in his ears.

Then all at once, everything came to a standstill; like a calm before the storm.

He felt weightless; the blue of the bright light that had burned through his closed eyelids, shifting to something softer and muted.

For a moment, he wondered if Five had failed. For an even longer moment, Ben thought he would be trapped in this endless weightlessness forever.

Until _everything_ slammed into him like a tidal wave; his eyes snapping open in the shock of it all just as Diego punched him in the face and sent him flying backward.

Wait what?

Crumpled on the ground— _he could feel the ground_ —Ben rubbed at his sore cheek— _he could feel pain_ —and glanced up with wide eyes at his stuttering brother as Diego apologized down at him.

Diego?

No this couldn’t be.

There in front of him was his brother. But it wasn’t the twenty-nine-year-old he remembered.

This Diego was younger.

_A lot younger._

How was that possible?

Was he…?

Quickly, his eyes shot down, sweeping over himself and the old uniform he used to wear, and realizing he wasn’t just _alive,_ he was young too.

“I—I thou-thought you saw it c-c-coming. Why di—did you freeze?”

Around him, his other siblings— _young siblings_ —stopped their sparring to stare at them. His face lit up as he saw Luther and Five, but the lack of shock or recognition on their faces had him biting his tongue.

_Five did it._

The son of a bitch actually did it.

But why was Ben the only one who made it?

He would need to find Vanya to be sure, but from what he was seeing, it was clear he was the only one who had made it with his conscious mind intact.

_Well, Shit._

(***)

When the day came to a close, and the others had yet to arrive; Ben held out the hope that they would show up eventually.

So far, all he had was the date of when he had landed—June 7th 2000—but for the life of him, Ben couldn’t remember what all had transpired when he was eleven years old.

Other than their usual grueling routine of training and lessons, there wasn’t much else that stood out in Ben’s memory. All he knew, was that it pre-dated the three major incidents’ that Ben would very much like to avoid at all cost.

He knew he needed to start making plans. He knew he needed to figure out how he was going to avoid the future Five narrowly had them escape from. But the distraction of being alive again, of feeling hunger and fatigue— _of being heard and seen by everyone_ —was enough to throw him off-topic each and every time he tried.

But when the first week came and went, and Luther, Five, and Vanya continued to show no signs of _awakening_ ; Ben grew nervous.

He knew the basics of what needed to be done. He knew that things needed to change, but what if he screwed something up? Would he alone be enough to change everything? Would he alone be enough to stop everything before the Commission got to him first?

(***)

By the end of the month, Ben had lost hope.

He was completely and utterly alone, with the fate of the whole damn world now resting on his shoulders.

Of course, he thought about going to his siblings and telling them everything, plenty of times over the weeks, but after the shit he had witnessed the last time; he doubted they would be of much help—not now when tensions at this age were already festering into something ugly between them all. He would have to tell them eventually, he knew that, but he also knew that he had to go about things carefully or they would never take him seriously again.

Never had Ben sympathized with Klaus more than he did in that moment.

But just because he couldn’t tell them their future, didn’t mean he would sit around and do nothing either—or they were doomed to repeat their same mistakes.

So, Ben started off small.

He included Vanya in more of their activities; getting to know their sister all over again the more and more she began to open up to him. While he had yet to figure out a way to breach the topic of her pills, he decided to take the small victory while he had it.

He sought Five out more, hoping that he could keep his brother from running—even if, deep down, Ben had a feeling Five’s fate was inevitable. Prideful as Five was to prove himself; his thirst for knowledge and the what if’s, too great for Ben to ever try and compete against.

Just like before, Klaus and Allison began to drift apart, leaving Klaus to cling to Ben as the only other person who tolerated him. The only difference this time around was that Ben actually _tried_ to take the time to listen when Klaus came to him with his problems. This time around, Ben had the foreknowledge and the means to actually _help him_.

How he was going to help Klaus—and by extension, Vanya—with their powers, Ben had no idea.

He was only one person after all.

He could only handle one problem at a time.

When it came to the rest of his siblings, he forced his way into their conversations and activities whenever he could—dragging Klaus and Vanya along to prevent them from falling to the background again—but it wasn’t easy. Not with Luther, Diego, and Allison too caught up in their own rivalry and drama to ever give the rest of them the time of day.

Luther was more of a hard-ass then Ben remembered; constantly shadowing their father and being groomed into the perfect soldier that Reginald wanted.

Allison ran hot or cold most days, quicker to rumor them before she’d ever _talk_ to them.

Diego was easier to connect with, but that was only when he was in a good mood—those days rare the longer he and Luther continued to butt heads.

Despite all this, Ben never stopped trying; asserting himself in ways he had never done before and throwing his two cents into the pot—even when no one wanted or asked for it.

No longer was he the same as he had been back at this age; more outspoken and less likely to blend into the shadows or hide behind his books, and Ben made _damn sure_ that his siblings knew that too.

Being back under their father’s thumb was something Ben would have to deal with, but seeing their family fall apart again was something Ben wouldn’t stand to watch for a second time.

 _They_ stirred within his stomach at that, and as he held his abdomen to soothe The Horror back down; it dawned on Ben that his relationship with his siblings wasn’t the only thing he needed to fix.

_One day at a time._

(***)

Four months later, when their twelfth birthday had come and gone like any other day; Ben suddenly awoke with _Them_ stirring uneasily in his stomach.

It was too soon for Klaus’ incident with the stairs and definitely too soon for Five’s disappearing act, which left Ben extremely uneasy as he scrambled to figure out what else may have happened.

Had he already screwed something up in the timeline? Were the changes he was making—no matter how small they were right now—messing everything up to the point of no return?

It all came to a head the next morning when he realized Klaus wasn’t there at the breakfast table.

“Number Four is receiving special training,” Reginald stated curtly when Ben had asked; before he immediately reprimanded Ben for talking at the table.

Special training?

That was all it was?

 _They_ stirred uneasily again, squirming enough to make him almost spit up what little he had eaten.

With a grunt, he held his abdomen to calm and keep them at bay.

Why were _They_ so restless? They _all_ had special training, that was just how it went around here. Not once, could Ben ever remember _Them_ rousing other than when those words were thrown at him.

Not knowing how to take or understand what they were trying to warn him against, he reluctantly pushed _Their_ feelings to the side for now; promising _Them_ and himself that he would get back to it later.

(He never did, not until years later when the truth of their special training finally came to light— _for all of them_.)

(***)

Ben didn’t need _Their_ warning this time, as the day of Klaus’ incident finally crept upon him.

The Deja-vu feeling as Klaus came to him with a favor after training; slammed into Ben like a speeding truck.

And just like before, Ben stood as Klaus’ lookout, while Klaus rooted around in their mother’s things. But this time, instead of leaving Klaus to his own devices with the pilfered heels; Ben threw his arm over Klaus’ shoulder and led him off to Allison’s room.

“Come on, fashion disaster; let’s see if Allison’s in a good mood today.”

“Hey!” Klaus gasped, jabbing his bony elbow out, only to miss as Ben skirted away with a chuckle. “Who are you calling a fashion disaster?”

“You, dumbass.”

As they coerced Allison into their shenanigans—Ben dragging Vanya along when they passed her in the hall—and ultimately started an impromptu fashion show in Allison’s room; Ben felt nothing but relief.

He’d done it.

He had actually done it!

It was such a small thing, but to Ben it was massive. To be able to do _something_ right; to change things and _help_ , was the greatest feeling after years of feeling useless.

And for the first time since he landed back in his young— _alive_ —body; Ben truly felt he could do this on his own.

 _They_ purred in contentment.

(***)

Nine months after Ben landed, Luther dropped into awareness—startling awake and falling right out of his bed with a yelp.

With wide eyes, chest heaving with a breath that hadn’t been there before, Luther took in the dark shadows of his room as his hands flew to his chest and leg—finding the room and his body perfectly intact.

Then he did a double-take.

In the faint light streaming through the blinds of his room, he stared in awe down at his hands—at his young, but more importantly, _free-of-ape serum_ hands. Not believing it, he scrambled to his feet, raced for his mirror, and found his younger image staring back at him—jaw dropped and eyes wide in shock.

Five had done it.

Five had succeeded in sending them back!

 _Back a little too far_ , maybe, but as his hands ran down his ape-free chest once more, Luther couldn’t find it within himself to care.

The joy died quickly as snippets of the hellscape they’d just left behind, flashed before his mind. The image of Diego—and his own body—crushed under the wreckage, or the image of Klaus as he fell through the floor, searing itself like a hot iron on his brain.

Five had succeeded.

But at what cost? When half their siblings wouldn’t remember a thing?

_Maybe that was for the best…_

Quietly, needing to see the proof with his own eyes, he crept out into the hall and began to check on each and every one of them, the relief washing over him in waves at finding his siblings sleeping and very much _alive_ in their beds.

Panic abating slightly, Luther vowed to regroup with the others in the morning as he shut Five’s door—who was the last to be checked on—and made his way back down to the second floor.

He wasn’t expecting to find Ben peeking his head out of his room as Luther passed.

“Luther?” he called quietly; voice rough from sleep. “What’s going on?”

_Ben._

How long had it been since Luther’s seen him?

“Luther?”

Luther didn’t answer him, his feet guiding his movements as he closed the distance and pulled Ben into a hug.

“Do—” Ben whispered hesitantly, even as he melted into the embrace. “Do you remember?”

“Of course, I remember; why wouldn’t I?” he tried to pull away to look, but Ben just squeezed his arms around his torso a bit tighter. “Ben? Why wouldn’t I remember?”

“I got here nine months before you.” Ben finally answered as they pulled apart. “And as far as I know, we’re the only ones here right now. Five and Vanya don’t remember anything.”

“And you’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Luther blinked. “Shit.”

Ben snorted, rolling his eyes as Luther shushed him for the abrupt noise that echoed slightly in the hall.

Pushing his bedroom door open wider, Ben gestured for Luther to follow. “Come on, we won’t have time to talk about this in the morning. We have a lot to go over.”

(***)

“That’s not a plan, Ben.”

“Never said it was, I said It’s _half_ of a plan.”

Luther stared tiredly at his brother. “Remind me, how long have you been shadowing Klaus?”

Ben glared. “Shut up,”

(***)

Now that he was _awake_ , as Ben liked to put it, Luther started stirring up his own changes.

No longer was he his father’s perfect solider; putting his foot down and standing up for himself and the rest of his family whenever he could. The punishments were a new thing, but it farther proved to him that their father only ever cared about control and their usefulness—but never actually caring _for_ them as Luther had once thought.

And as Luther continued to act as the brother he should have always been—and not the leader their father demanded he be—the rivalry between him and Diego slowly began to ebb.

(***)

“What’s gotten into you?” Allison came to Luther one afternoon during their free time, eyeing him as he gingerly sat down on his bed. “You _never_ talk back to dad.”

He groaned as his muscles ached from the special training he’d been forced to go through. His punishment after speaking up at the dinner table last night—and even going so far as to ban their mother from giving Luther something to ease the muscle strain.

“Maybe I’m just tired of it.” He answered instead of the full truth—having agreed with Ben that they should wait for Five and Vanya before doing anything else.

“I don’t buy it.” She answered flatly, eyebrow raised in challenge for him to lie to her again.

He winced.

Of course, she would see right through that.

He was saved from attempting again, by the knock on his door; two heads peeking around the corner as Ben and Klaus pushed it open without invitation. In their hands were frozen bags of vegetables obviously stolen from the kitchen.

Luther took them gratefully. 

“I know what I’m doing, Allison.” He tried instead.

She raised her eyebrow again, it’s twin raising to meet it at the hiss the three of them heard when the bag met his sore lower back. “If you’re sure…”

“That doesn’t sound like you’re su—ow!” Klaus hissed as Ben smacked him.

Luther chuckled despite himself. “I’m sure.”

(***)

Almost two months later, Vanya joined their ranks.

And at the most inopportune time at that.

They were sitting at supper; everything quiet—save for the record playing in the background—when Vanya startled so hard, the food on her fork went flying and landed in Klaus’ hair.

This caused a chain reaction of events that Ben, Luther, and Vanya would never forget.

Klaus stared wide-eyed at her as their father began to scold Vanya for her carelessness. It wasn’t long after that, that Klaus suddenly burst out into a fit of giggles before Luther could step in for their sister; a mischievous grin taking over his face.

Ben recognized the look immediately and tried to stop it—but he was too late as Klaus took his fork full of food and catapulted it across the table; Five spatial-jumping out of the way before it could hit him, and reappearing with a murderous glare on his face.

And as Five picked up a handful of Diego’s mashed potatoes—ignoring Diego’s indignation and Reginald’s clear warning—the war was on.

It lasted no longer than two minutes, as Reginald _quickly_ and _firmly_ put a stop to it; but the damage had been done.

Severally punished for their insubordination, and left in charge to clean the living room up themselves; none of them felt the least bit sorry—especially as Klaus began to mock their father’s lecture the moment the seven of them were alone.

Shocking them all, Klaus was joined quickly by Luther—his impersonation spot on, and leading them all to try their hand at it without fear of their leader tattling on them.

(***)

With Ben and Luther’s help, Vanya slowly started weening herself off the pills.

It was a gradual thing, but after a while, Vanya could feel the changes. The world no longer felt muted and her emotions no longer felt hindered.

The only problem she did face was the sound. Everything—from the birdsong down to her own heartbeat—constantly amplified around her. Some days the noise level was so loud, it left her with splitting headaches and an irritable temper.

It was during those bad days, that she found herself struggling to keep the power contained—forced to take a pill for fear of alerting the adults that she was going off them.

Like now, as she sat in the kitchen alone; a wet cloth pressed firmly to her forehead, and two of her pills already dry shallowed and dissolving in her stomach.

So loud was the sound, that she couldn’t decipher the footsteps from her own beating heart as Diego crept into the room, nor did she hear when he started talking to her—his voice lost in the ringing.

It was the hand on her shoulder, that finally got her to notice him.

“A-are you alright?” he asked hesitantly.

The pained grimace on her face; spoke for her.

As she dropped her head gently on the cool surface of the table, she didn’t see as Diego grabbed the rag she’d discarded on top of it, nor did she see as he moved to run it under the cold water from the faucet.

Another tap on her shoulder had her looking up.

“Come on.”

Confused, but still accepting the hand as he pulled her up, she asked. “Where are we going?”

“To mom.” He answered simply. “She’ll have something y-y-you can take for your headache.”

If Vanya had been more with it, she would have realized this was the first time Diego had talked to her without someone else there as a buffer.

As it were, the pain from her head kept her from making that connection as she allowed him to guide her up to the infirmary.

(***)

Vanya’s power only grew worse.

Which lead to her, Luther and Ben sneaking off the premises late into the night—twice a week—to help her train so their cover wouldn’t be blown.

It was slow going at first, none of them knowing what the hell they were doing, but they had to try.

And try they did.

(***)

It wasn’t long after, as she slowly began to get a handle on it; when they realized her power was sound-based telekinesis.

And it was around the same time, that Ben started to drag Klaus along with them; hopeful that they could awaken his other powers while they helped him train with the one, he already had.

(***)

“Wait, wait, wait.” Klaus shook his head, trying to make sense of everything he had just been told. “Vanya has powers?”

“Yes.”

“And dad’s been suppressing them, all this time?”

Ben nodded.

Klaus blinked and stared at Vanya and Luther, who shrugged their shoulders back at him.

That… didn’t surprise him as much as Klaus thought it would.

“So,” Klaus drawled slowly, eyes narrowing as he regarded them all. “How did you find out, if none of us were supposed to know?”

They froze, none of them expecting him to ask that question before Klaus was holding out his hand.

“Well, if you aren’t using them, mind if I take ‘em?”

Ben slapped his hand down with a withering glare. “ _No.”_

Klaus grumbled.

Oh well, it was worth a shot.

(In the end, he didn’t even need them. The training doing wonders as he gradually learned to surround himself with the more pleasant souls, while the wraiths got pushed back to the shadows where they belonged.)

(***)

Their thirteenth birthday came and went when Klaus’ telekinesis _finally_ presented itself.

Thankfully, the only other person to witness it was Vanya; the two of them out in the courtyard and enjoying the mild weather, when Vanya noticed a baby bird teetering dangerously out of their nest. Before she could even hone the sound around her to help it settle back in, it tipped and began to fall.

She cried out with a fearful gasp, both her and Klaus racing to try and catch it when suddenly a faint glow of blue surrounded the chick and froze it in mid-air.

“Wha—” Vanya startled; her eyes shifting to her brother and eyes widening at the familiar blue glow that surrounded his fists. “Klaus, whatever you’re doing to bring this on, don’t stop.”

Klaus tittered nervously in answer, his fists shaking as he slowly rose them and watched in awe as the bird went with the motion.

But Klaus was inexperienced with this new power, the glow beginning to tamper as she quickly stepped in to help. Between the two of them, the bird was safely back in its nest as they collapsed underneath the tree in relief.

“What was _that_?” Klaus finally spoke up; his eyes staring in wonder at his hands.

“Guess ghosts aren’t your only thing now, huh?” she bumped her shoulder with his when he didn’t say anything. “You glad you didn’t take the pills?”

The small excited grin that formed on his lips, was answer enough.

(***)

A week before Five was to leave for the future—none of them knowing how they were going to stop him, despite their best efforts—Five jolted back into awareness.

It was just Five and Ben in the living room; the two of them enjoying the quiet to read while the others took their free time elsewhere; when Five suddenly jerked in his seat.

“Ben?” there was a silent question in Five’s wild eyes as he stood from the armchair.

“Yeah, Five, it’s me.” He assured quickly. “You’re the last to arrive.”

(***)

Their planning only took off from there—Five the final piece to the puzzle that the three had been waiting for.

There wasn’t a lot of time left to execute an airtight plan, but Five knew they couldn’t stay. With all the changes the others had already made, it was only a matter of time before the Commission came knocking on their doorstep again—and with him not jumping to the future, the Commission interfering was a given.

Between Diego, Klaus, and Allison, Klaus took the least amount of time to convince to leave, but eventually, all seven of them were ready.

And on the eve of the day that Five was supposed to jump, all seven of them ran instead.

With the monitors taken care of and Reginald’s red journal within their possession—curtsey of Five—they snuck out of their rooms late into the night with only the bare essentials they could carry on their backs; the only exceptions being Vanya’s violin and Klaus’ Walkman.

They’d just made it to the ground floor with Five and Luther leading the way when Pogo stepped out of the shadows.

For a long horrifying moment, no one said anything. The tension in the air was thick as Five and Luther shifted their stances; both ready to spring and give their siblings a head start if need be.

In the next moment, head shaking with a wary—yet saddened—expression on his face; Pogo stepped aside.

“You have until dawn to get out of the city.” He told them quietly. “I’m afraid, I cannot afford you any more time than that.”

To say they were shocked, was an understatement—so sure that Pogo would have sounded an alarm on them all.

“We need to go.” Five urged; the first to snap out of it quickly.

As the others fled out the front door, Luther lingered behind; stopping in front of Pogo with mixed emotions fighting their way to the surface—remembering the good years but remembering the lies too. There was so much to be said, questions on the tip of Luther’s tongue, but there was no time.

With a nod of thanks, Luther fled the only home he ever knew and followed his siblings into the night.

(***)

Life on the run with seven—prone to be an asshole—siblings, was difficult.

Tensions ran high more often than not, but they made it work--- _they had too_ ; for not only did they have the Commission after their asses, but the police for being runaways.

So, they did what they could do to survive.

Between Five’s ability to jump and Klaus and Vanya getting a handle on their telekinesis, the three of them were constantly in charge of stealing whatever they needed—food, clothing, money.

When Klaus wasn’t helping with the former task, he was left with the responsibility of lookout—using the ghosts to his advantage as alarms, to warn them whenever they needed to move.

Allison was in charge of keeping their scent scattered in the wind. If they had a witness, she rumored them. If they needed a motel room or a ride to a different city, she rumored them.

Luther, Diego, and Ben were simply they’re muscle if the need arose.

So far, they hadn’t run into any trouble, but the four of them knew it was only a matter of time before their luck ran out.

(***)

They were somewhere in North Carolina, about two months after fleeing the academy, when out of the blue, Allison jolted with a wild gasp; hands flying to her throat and panicked eyes searching for a threat that wasn’t there.

“Allison?” Vanya called gently, the rest of them frozen in the motel room they had just entered for the night.

“Wha—whe—how am I here?” Allison questioned, wild eyes landing on Vanya—only to widen even more. “Vanya?”

It was that wild look, the look of someone struggling with two sets of memories, that the four of them realized this was their Allison from 2019.

“No, that can’t—” Five breathed. “How is that possible?”

“I don’t know,” Ben answered quietly; giving Allison a small smile when her wide eyes bounced between him and Five.

“Anyone gonna fill us in on what’s going on here?” Diego spoke up as he shared a bewildered look with Klaus.

With the hope that Diego and Klaus might also regain their memory later down the road, the four of them finally told the rest of their family the truth—telling them everything except for who started the damn thing, to begin with.

_One bombshell at a time._

(***)

“Shit!”

Five cursed as he dove behind a rock beside Klaus; his power depleted as he tried to jump them both out of the line of fire.

“You weren’t kidding about these guys.” Klaus tittered beside him, hands covering his ears as the loud banging of gunfire continued to rebound around the woods. “Man, are their victims pissed.”

“Mind lending a hand?” Five hissed at him.

“Hey!” Klaus snapped back. “I bought you time to gain some cover, didn’t I?”

Five opened his mouth to retort, when a loud, piercing ringing, followed by Vanya’s warning, had all of them ducking in their hiding spots. Not long after, a blast of white light burst forth; shattering wood and branches, and sending their attackers flying.

The seven of them didn’t linger to see the aftermath.

(***)

Three months later, Diego _woke_ up.

They were in the middle of another battle between the Commission—Klaus, Ben, and Diego getting ambushed on their way back from a supply run—when it happened.

“Diego!” Klaus yelled out when Diego suddenly staggered backward, Klaus’ palms flying out as he froze the bullets heading for their brother, in mid-air.

Recovering quickly, Diego sent his knives flying into their assailants to finish off the ones that Klaus didn’t get as he sent their bullets back at them.

It was only after the last person went down—Ben snatching up the briefcase they saw among their corpses as they fled the scene—that Diego uttered. “I remember.”

(***)

Thanks to the vengeful victims, the seven of them finally had a location to start taking their battle to the Commission.

If they ever wanted to live normal lives again, they knew they would have too.

There was no other way.

Seven months later, and a long trip to 1981 France, they had the first base decimated beyond repair.

(***)

When a full year came and went after Diego’s awareness returned; the six of them started to lose hope that Klaus would regain his.

Luther, Diego, and Allison had to wonder, if maybe that was for the best, while Five, Ben, and Vanya, mourned the loss of the good memories, that Klaus would never be able to share in again.

(***)

By the second year, the Commission base in 1898 Thailand fell.

The Commission was ready for them this time around; learning from their last mistake in underestimating them, but all they managed to do was drag out the inevitable.

The building, and everyone in it, were no match for Klaus and Vanya while the rest of their siblings fought the foot soldiers waiting for them outside.

(***)

They were almost seventeen when the seven of them decided to enjoy the rare lull between all the running and fighting.

They were currently hiding in 1975 Hawaii, sitting and swimming at a secluded beach and enjoying the calm, when Klaus suddenly spoke mid-splash fight.

“ _Holy shit_ , I was the reason the world ended…”

Within seconds, his arms were filled with little sister as he and Vanya went toppling into the ocean.

(***)

“Were _any of you_ going to tell me?” Klaus asked that night, when the high of their family being reunited and whole, died down.

“Eventually.” Ben shrugged.

Klaus snorted in derision. “Eventually?” he laughed sardonically at all of them. “When? On my death bed?”

“Klaus—" Luther started, only for Klaus to cut him off.

“—Or when I end up becoming the bomb again?”

“You aren’t a bomb, Klaus.” Allison chided gently.

“You also know how to control it now,” Vanya added.

Be that as it may, Klaus still had his doubts.

His younger self didn’t suffer from the same trauma as Klaus went through as an adult; nor did his younger self have a broken heart that had yet to heal.

The hand on his shoulder had him looking up, to find Diego.

“We’ll get through this like we do everything else.”

“Together,” Luther added quickly after as the others nodded their agreement.

Klaus could only hope that that would be enough.

(***)

By the time they were Twenty-one, they had a total of fourteen of the thirty-three secret bases—scattered across the world and time—destroyed.

Little did they know, that within the Commission, a rebellion had already started to form two years prior; led by an exhausted and fed-up Hazel with likeminded foot-soldiers, and other staff alike, who were tired of being treated like pawns to a company and system that didn’t care about their wellbeing.

(***)

They were not quite twenty-four when they _finally_ won their war.

With the help of the rebellion, they brought the last few bases down to the ground.

And it was at this last base, where Five had met a woman who called herself the Handler. A woman, who had _laughed_ in his face when he’d asked why their organization would allow _everything_ in the world to end.

“It’s not an end of everything,” she chuckled as she trained her gun at his head. “Only an end of _somethi—”_

He took her down before she could finish that sentence; jumping and sending her own gun firing back at her.

An end of something his ass.

Nothing excused watching and allowing the genocide of billions of people—his siblings included.

_Absolutely nothing._

(***)

In the end—as they jumped to their appropriate timeline that matched their current age—they stuck together for the first few months; afraid that their victory was nothing more than a hollow lie as they made their home in several motel rooms.

And in the silence that followed, the seven of them wondered, what would come next—having run and fought in their war for so long, that the thought of going back to a life of normalcy felt alien and strange to all of them.

(***)

As the weeks had passed and the peace had remained, Allison had been the first to branch off; heading out to try and become an actress again—though this time she went about it legitimately.

It took a while to get anywhere near where she had been, but the name she had begun to make for herself, was something she could _actually_ be proud of, this time.

Then one day, somehow, someway—whether it was fate or not—she bumped into Patrick, who still fell in love with her, even without her influence.

Despite the messy end in the last timeline, she had, at one point, loved him. Plus, she knew what had happened had been entirely her fault. She had almost turned him down, but the thought of getting Claire back had pushed her to dive headfirst into the relationship instead—despite Five’s adamant warning against it.

“There’s no guarantee that you’ll get Claire back.” He had told her.

They’d made too many changes for it to be possible—not to mention she had started her career and met Patrick later in her life then she had in the last timeline.

She didn’t listen to his advice.

(***)

A year after, she found out she was pregnant; the news sending her over the moon with joy. Even more so, when she found out she was having a little girl.

She was _finally_ getting her daughter back.

All was right in the world.

Until one day everything hit home and Allison couldn’t deny Five’s words any longer.

Despite her best effort to ignore it, Allison knew deep down, that the daughter she had known and loved was gone. Gone in a timeline that no longer existed.

She loved Claire with all her heart, and on that day—when she could no longer ignore the truth—she mourned Claire just as hard; brokenly sobbing on the bathroom floor alone, with her arms curled protectively over the new life growing inside of her womb.

She knew she couldn’t put that kind of pressure on this one. Couldn’t expect that this little girl would be just like her little Claire-bear. It wouldn’t be fair to Claire’s memory and it certainly wouldn’t be fair to this one either.

She would always love Claire, but Allison knew that she would love this little one too.

There would be days that it would be hard; she knew that for a fact. Days where she would always wonder the what-ifs. What college would Claire have gone too? What profession would she have taken? Would she have found love or would she have traveled the world before settling down?

 _Yes,_ those days would come, and those days would be hard, but as the weeks passed—as her daughter continued to grow and move inside of her—Allison found herself growing more and more curious and excited to see where _this one_ would go with her life.

Lilly Claire Hargreeves was born August 10th and surrounded by love—and no small amount of pain and tears—with five uncles and an aunt, all just waiting to meet, love, and protect her too.

(***)

Diego had left a week after Allison, signing up for the police academy and actually sticking to it this time around.

While there, he met and fell in love with Eudora all over again—despite his best efforts to keep that last part from happening. Constantly he had to remind himself that he didn’t need a repeat of their last relationship.

They weren’t good for each other, anyway.

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

Of course, fate had other ideas; showing a twisted sense of humor that Diego didn’t care for at all.

On the day that he would have asked her out, she turned around and asked him out instead. And like the idiot he was, he said yes.

If fate was going to force them together, then maybe this was their second chance.

Maybe, _just maybe_ , history wouldn’t repeat itself.

(***)

Graduation came and went, but instead of joining the police force with Eudora as he had originally planned, he went off and opened his own PI business. It had been a hard decision, but in the end, he knew he would never have been happy on the force. The red tape would have only served to infuriate him, and that bullshit had been the tension that had ended his relationship in the first place.

He refused to make that same mistake again.

Their relationship wasn’t perfect, not by any means—constantly butting heads with their difference of opinion—but he and Eudora made it work.

(***)

The moment his business was stable and the two of them could afford a comfortable apartment, Diego enlisted help from his siblings and headed back to the academy so he could collect their mother.

They stood as a united front against their father—refusing to be cowed by a man who only ever saw them as property—and won.

Diego took their mother.

Luther took Pogo.

And they never looked back.

(***)

Luther had left two days after Diego; taking his portion of the money, they had saved, to get himself a small apartment by the city park.

He thought about following his childhood dream, but realized—while he would always love it—the stars just didn’t appeal to him as much anymore. He’d had four long years of it.

He didn’t need any more than that.

Instead, he went and did what he should have done in the first timeline.

He witnessed the hectic crowd of a concert with Vanya and Allison—the energy of the crowd, and the beat of the music, a memorable experience he would never forget.

He went to a baseball game with Diego and Eudora—and found that he liked hockey more than any of the other sports.

He took a trip down to DC with Five, Ben, Vanya, and Klaus, where they spent three days touring the Smithsonian and any of the other museums the city had to offer—Klaus re-buying him the NASA magnet and snow globe that had been lost in the last timeline.

Every Friday night, he went down and had a few beers at the pub—becoming a regular that the patrons welcomed as they’d sit and watch whatever sport was playing that night on the television set.

He picked up his old pastime of model planes and cars and went down to the hobby shop every Monday—where he met and found his _first_ friend.

He even got a job at a landscaping company—his love of gardening and the peace it brought him, something he had been all too eager to do.

Luther did everything he couldn’t do while he’d been under his father’s thumb.

He went out and _he lived._

(***)

Remembering the date in which Mitchell would pass on, Klaus had left next; heading back to their old neighborhood to find Margie and Mitchell going strong inside their diner.

Ben, Five, and Vanya followed soon after; the motion a force of habit more than anything else. Plus, Margie and Mitchell had been like second family to all of them; they would have been stupid to pass up the opportunity to meet and get to know them again.

It wasn’t long after, that Klaus managed to worm his way into getting his job back, and with their interference, they managed to keep Mitchell from falling prey to his bad habits—giving the man ten extra years he didn’t get the chance to have before.

(***)

The four of them moved into a large apartment; rooming together _temporarily_ while Ben, Five, and Vanya put themselves through college.

Five had gone on to gain several doctorate degrees—partly out of boredom, but mostly to prove that he could—and even gained a Nobel prize for some of his research.

Vanya had gone off to do what she had done in her last life; though this time, she made it to first chair. And instead of writing a tell-all book, she wrote and composed her own music; making a name for herself to rival that of Allison’s as her songs began to feature in blockbuster movies. 

Ben had taken a while to decide on what he wanted to do before he finally had settled on something he felt was fitting. In the past, he had always been forced to _take lives_ , but this time around, as he went through medical school, he hoped he could _save them_ instead.

Klaus continued working at the diner, but eventually—at Margie’s and his siblings’ prompting—he went and followed his own dream; continuing to work at the diner part-time as he put himself through school to gain his cosmetology license.

(***)

Two months before April 1st, 2019, Five checked to make sure Harold wouldn’t be a problem.

Or rather, _he made sure_ Harold wouldn’t be a problem.

What his siblings didn’t know, Five figured wouldn’t hurt them.

(***)

A month later, Klaus—on a whim—borrowed a few war books from the library as he and Ben perused the shelves.

He didn’t like what he found in them.

(***)

“I’m going Five, there’s nothing you can say that will stop me.”

“You’re an idiot!” Five hissed. “You seriously want to go back there, after everything?!”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Five shook his head in disbelief. “Klaus you _still_ have nightmares; and yet you’re willing to drop yourself back into that hell? All for what? For a chance that you _might_ be able to save him?”

“I have to try, Five!” Klaus yelled, temper rising. “ _I have to try_.” He deflated.

“Klaus, there’s no guarantee that you’ll succeed. What if _you_ die this time?”

“I didn’t have control of my powers last ti—”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about, Klaus.” Five cut in. “Things are different now, you’ve changed. You aren’t the same as you were back in that old timeline. Any change you make now could have serious consequences,” He told him gravely. “And you might not like where those consequences go.”

With an angry sigh, Klaus snatched the war book off the shelf, flipped through to a dogeared page, and slammed it down on the coffee table.

“William Harrington—age eighteen—died serving his nation during a scouting mission.” Klaus read the small passage off; the anger, that that was all poor Will got—a single sentence after everything that kid did for his country—rolling off him in waves.

“Klaus, I don—”

“James McAvoy—age twenty-five—brother to Jack McAvoy; died during the middle of the night when an ambush attacked their camp. Jack McAvoy—age thirty-one—lost both of his legs and was honorably discharged with a purple heart for himself and for his brother.”

“Klaus—”

“Sergeant Charles—Chuck—Davis—age forty-nine—died fighting on the front lines. Along with him, was half of the remaining 173rd airborne brigade he commanded. David Katz—” His voiced cracked at the name. “—age twenty-eight. Randy Butta—age forty-one, and Sergeant Chuck’s second in command—”

“You can’t—”

“—Did you know; Dave’s tour was almost up? Had he lasted another two weeks, he would have been able to go home?” Klaus changed tactics.

Five didn’t try to cut in this time, silent as he finally took a look at the book opened before him. A black and white photo of what was clearly Klaus’ unit, stared right back at him.

“Did you know, that Will was drafted just a week after he’d turned eighteen? Or how, in that last timeline, he had survived that scouting mission with nothing more than a lost leg? _A kid_ , who only had an aunt for family, and wanted to become a Veterinarian because he loved animals so much?”

Five winced.

“I have to try, Five.”

“And what if your presence does more harm than good? What if it changes nothing and they end up dying anyway? Will you be able to handle that fallout?”

“I—”

“ _Will you,_ Klaus?”

“I’m going, Five. My mind’s already been made up.”

They stared each other down for a long moment—or more like Klaus stared _him_ down; still hoarding four extra inches over Five despite their age.

“Have you told the others?” he sighed out, knowing that once Klaus put his mind to something; there was no way of stopping it.

He just hoped that Klaus didn’t get himself killed in the process.

“No.”

“Will you tell them?”

“No.”

“Klaus!”

“They’ll try and stop me.”

“Of course, they would, you idiot.” Five griped. “If you’re really doing this, then you need to tell them, Klaus. _Or I will_.” He threatened. “And you aren’t going alone.”

Klaus shook his head vehemently. “ _No,_ you can’t go with me.”

Five gave him his wide, shark-like grin as he stepped into Klaus’ space. “ _Watch me_.”

(***)

In the end, Klaus stole the briefcase out from under Five’s nose and disappeared long before Five knew it was gone.

He should have destroyed the damn thing when he’d had the chance.

With gritted teeth, he slammed the safe door closed, and went to call Ben, to let him know what had happened.

He hoped it was worth it because when he got his hands on that idiot, Five was going to kill him.

_If the war didn’t kill Klaus first._

(***)

What was only a day for the six of them as they assembled in Klaus’ apartment, was apparently a whole year for Klaus, as he suddenly blipped back to their time—and with a man staggering uneasily on his feet beside their brother as the effects of time travel washed over the stranger.

“You’re a dumbass.”

Klaus blinked as he faced six angry glares all staring back at him.

With an easy grin and a wave of his newly tattooed Hello hand, he slotted his other arm through Dave’s.

They could be angry all they wanted.

Klaus regretted _nothing_.

(***)

The day after April 1st, the seven of them came together and celebrated; toasting to a world still standing, to second chances, and the found family they had made along the way.

Things were far from perfect. And from here on out, everything they faced in the future would be a mystery.

But just as they had done with the last problem, they would face everything else the same way.

_Together._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (((I know nothing about the commission, so I'm not even sure if they have more then one base... but that's my story and I'm sticking too it XD
> 
> Once again, thank you all for reading, you guys truly are the best!)))


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